Email Poem

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Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
Again I am at my favorite coffee shop, sipping cappichino wanting
 to write about something other than you.
  Wanting half-heartedly to move to a different page in my life.
 Needing someone else to fill that void you have left.
 When I shut my eyes, you are there.  
Small things constantly remind me of you. 
Like Fate whispering to me from another plane to hold on a little longer.
At night my head fills with hazy dreams of us. 
As I lay alone at night staring up into the dark,
your smile flashes infront of me.
 I cry and reach out for you yet wishing that you are happy in your place in life. 
I swim in this oceanic thought drifting out with the tide of a reality that I wish were true:
 You, in your study working on another book,  typing away.
 Contenence of seriousness and contemplation= logic
 Muscles of your jaw tense, your eyes moving in time with written lines 
as the light of the screen highlights your face.
 You lean forward as if to extract something from your works. 
 Hesitantly you begin to type again. Read what is there, 
digest the phrasing, grimice, then fiercely press the backspace key erasing
 forever that paragraph.. 
The frustration in these obsene lines. 
 I sense that you are stuck. 
 Leaning back in your highbacked leather chair staring at the screen. 
Fingers arched in a prayer that your muse will come and bless you with a few lines. 
 To complete a thought.
 As they move forth and back over pursed lips...Your concentration, to save an ill-fated ship from the clutches of a diabolical empire,
 is such that you do not notice me standing in the doorway.
 For the moment, I prefer it that way.
 I take pleasure in watching you work, 
pounder the course of the universe and not realize that you are being observed.
 As I did when we were in the desert.
 When I was on guard duty with the 240 Bravo that you taught me how to use. 
I would watch you walk away from the TOC,
 hands clasped  behind your back, head covered with your booney cap lowered watching the ground. Puzzlement over the actions of the day.
Still, you have yet to see me standing there watching you...........
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