The sun is high and hot in the afternoon’s empty sky.

To you I say, This has never happened before,

this feeling.

And somewhere above the mountains the clouds rise dark and rumble and shatter.

You say, I miss you.

And now I’m afraid to move. The walls flash white and the smell of dirt rises to meet the falling rain.

I say, And when summer is gone?

And you say, I’ll miss you.

The clouds move pass the mountains and fall on other towns. Perhaps yours.

I’m afraid to go outside. I’m afraid of what I’ll see. I’m afraid of what you’ll say.

You like the mountains have power. You create and move the storm.

And I am down below, looking to the sky, wondering if you’ll come down, or if I can go up.

It is only miles between you and I. Only mountains and dirt and air.

I want to destroy them. Suck them into the vacuum of space.

But what are we without the distance? It defines our movements and shapes our words.

Mine are simple words. Unlike the storm, they go on. Like the mountains, they stay the same.

You are the morning birds and wake me with a kiss

You are the afternoon rain and call me with hellos and goodbyes

You are the evening stories and I’m the dashing prince

You say, Happily ever after

And you smile because that is what I say

You just smile and smile and smile

I died once, long ago

I no longer need the sun or stars or moon or shadows or time

I need the sound of your voice in my ear

Your long, lulling breath of life

I want to feel the edges of your see-through dress

And taste summer’s heat on your upper lip

And swim in the motion of your prophesying hands

Your soft, fulfilling hands