Greenwich Mean Time
You are miles away, across
a giant salty pond, with several
frustrating time zones between us.
Night falls, and again I am restless,
lining up pillows under blankets,
pretending you are here with me.
I talk to you, mumble about the rain
or the cat, until I fall asleep
holding tear-stained cotton wishes.
Thoughts of you and your Scottish lilt
occupy my dreams, fluttering eyelids
waiting to open at the sound of a
blaring ringtone of bagpipes.
But telephone calls cannot replace
your whispering lips upon my ear;
computer screens are no match
for your actual face, and I am weary,
withering from lack of touch.
Time is not on either of our sides.
Copyright © 2010 by Christopher Chaffin – All rights reserved