Not Too Far

His shadow falls cold on his hot coffee mug Dawn is but a crimson promise of her hug His gaze explores patterns on the tablecloth Faint outline of a butterfly or a moth His forefinger traces absent-mindedly Rim of a lotus leaf, tip of a lily From far away she has sworn she will be here He drifts, remembering a small beach house where With windows ajar, with sea breeze blowing light One tastes the salt air, smells the sea in the night Here is where the reason for his return lies Quite near, a few miles away as the crow flies