while you are away on the islands

the city cold and damp for spring, dead gray sky and frozen ground, the shifting darkness outside my window as passing cars battle the fading breath of space atop the dirty street. a photograph inside my wallet eases each fragmented hour, reminds me how wealthy i've become in these fleeing days of winter. your name scrawled three thousand times across my walls once for each mile you stand apart from this place, smiling against a tiring sun, one last glimpse at an endless sea with only the weight of water to hold these things between us.