You called me darling
Late one evening
Then they started coming
Those rare tears, which, frightening,
Led me to thinking
Of you departing.

Even if it’s many evenings
Away, I can’t help but find myself wondering
If what we have is something
Special.
We’re not “official”
To the public,
But is it really necessary to commit
To the public?
Who only critique.

All that matters
Is knowing you’ll flatter
And that you’ll stutter
Over your kind mutters
Of sweet whispers which flutter
Into my ears when things get lonely.
Like sweet butterfly feet
Memories of you will treat
My brain to a sweet
Retreat.

Even though
In a month or so
You will have flown
From here to home
I will remain
Here, to anticipate
The day
When I can see you, once again
And we’ll listen to Tiersen
And hold hands under the enveloping
Empyrean
Of the expansion
Of the infinite
Surroundings
Of our planet.