Three thousand miles,
Fifteen million, eight hundred, forty thousand feet.
Fifteen million, eight hundred, forty thousand feet.
No matter how you say it,
Worlds away are we;
Oceans, food, people apart.
But eyes closed, I feel your fingers,
Trail up my spine, touching-tickling,
Sending shivers through nape to toe tips.
I smile and snuggle close,
Comforting body pressed against my back,
Sending my heat flowing back to me.
You are right here with me.
I open my eyes, mourn to see,
The fan and pillow that make up your body and fingers.
But I know:
Oceans can be crossed.
Food can be shared.
And people grow together.
