Empty of words, my heart awaits
your touch, your silent singing embrace.
This time, intermediate, catches the muscle,
    restrains the eye;
I reach to touch what is not there,
    an imagined embrace,
sensing your presence already occupying
    my heart's emptiness.

The remembered moment -- you withdrew
    into a secret center,
to re-emerge, a misted froth, a sea-tide,
touching what had not been touched,
reaching what had not been reached;
    and something in me knew,
from that first moment,
that I loved you, and would always love you.

Now I await your call, and the sound
    of sweetness in your voice.
This time is a torture, a suspended joy,
a deep, deep uncertainty;
but my love for you is not uncertain
    -- it is true.