Today is Our Someday

Freiburg, Germany, 2015.

Basel, Switzerland, 2015.


Of all the days
I had wished and pined
and longed for you,
today is our someday,
where you are here,
and I am there;
here, where I am,
there, where you are,
here and there,
where we both are.

For today, for now,
for ever and always,
in the sweet, musky
recesses of our memories,
you are real; your cells
exude a warmth that
envelopes me, permeating
the winter within my being,
now surrendering to the glorious
autumns, springs, summers of you.

You appeared like
an anticipated surprise
on a September night, the
first glimpse of Vienna lights
reflected in your eyes, alighting
my soul, setting it ablaze; they
slipped briskly into an intimacy
from which they never
Fitzgerald would say – one
from which I never wish to recover.

Here we are, shining starlight,
burning amid the darkness
of the rest of the universe –
someday had always been the time
to do this or that, go here or there;
someday had always been but a
distant dream, existing in elusive
corners of farfetched imagination;
despite the whimsicality, we trusted
in the serendipity bridging us two.

At night, I fall asleep to the music
of your heartbeats, and your arm rises
and falls in tandem with my breathing;
in the morning, I awake to sun-bathed,
prepossessing vulnerability – and still,
I must confess: I miss you, all the time;
the days are short and nights, long –
I miss you in darkness as sleep steals me,
at dawn for all the hours lost in slumber,
and during all the hours in between.

I could never be close enough to you;
looking into your eyes I see a vast ocean
of longing, desire, and dreams inscribed
on those pools of molten caramel and know
that with you, this magic, lightness, and
wonder can only continue to take new,
enchanting forms, and yet – my heart aches
for each of the thousand miles that you are
away from me; tears fall as with the leaves
from naked branches of grieving trees.

The distance between us expands and
contracts, rises and falls, as with the sun,
moon, stars, and all things timeless and
immutable; and as the wind echoes the
sorrowful dance of rustling leaves,
take heart in that they will again return,
and be glad to have something, someone
who makes you ache to leave behind –
albeit momentarily – and as the setting sun
casts its glow over a canopy of gold-lined clouds,

I shall await
our someday of today.

– Agnes Chew


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