Her (a love poem)

I think about time I could spend with her.

When I dream of the future, I dream of her.

I think of her body and the ways I could touch her.

She fills my mind like an overbearing presence

Though I could bear her as easily as the scent of a lilac. 

I sit at a table and try to write a love poem 

While she listens to the calls of owls and sandhill cranes.

And sees an egret on the river’s edge.

The miles between us don’t stop me from imagining

That I can see her standing by a tent at a campsite 

As she teases me for being a man too weak to pitch a tent and rough it.

And she says this in a text that ends with a semicolon and a rounded bracket

Which form a smile that makes me see her. And want her.

And wonder when I will be brave enough to tell her.

Just her.

 

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