The moon peeks through the window —
one eye opened to the world.
I close mine, put a thumb over the light
and it disappears as I think of you
on the other side of the Universe
doing exactly the same, smiling
at my childlike gestures.
I switch hands,
blocking the light with me,
manipulating it to go left,
right and back to you
pretending to play ping-pong
through the cosmos.
I caress the left side of the bed,
white sheets illuminating the emptiness
as bright as the moon.
Where would we be on such a night
if we could magically reunite
through this place and there?
Would you be here or, I,
on the other side of wonderland?
I open both eyes,
focus on the shadows of trees,
the wind blowing gently,
water dancing to the
twinkles of midnight diamonds.
I miss you in my lack of sleep,
the energy from gravitational pull,
the anxiety from dead memories,
but thoughts pour out
through carefully chosen tears
radiating from Eternity,
masquerading as your touch
on my hands and cheeks.
Every month I search for you
while following the giant eye
in the night sky.
Every so often clouds form closure
and I find you winking from that
other place you now call home.