She is here and he, there.
She lies in bed and wonders
if part of her exists, elsewhere,
sipping the first of pumpkin lattes
or, crinkling eyes in dreams of his.
With every sneeze she smiles
at the possibility of her being
filling his thoughts in that very
moment, strolling those streets.
He is here and she, there.
He posts a letter and wonders
if part of him would be travelling
from here to Greenland and back,
before entering her world, there.
Every yellow umbrella he sees
is of her shining eyes a glimpse,
and in the reflection of the glass
is her knee brushing against his.
One day, there nor there
they would no longer be.
For one day, here is where
they would henceforth be.
– Agnes Chew