With love from the WC

A poem written last year to my now husband, when we were in a long distance relationship. I lived in South Africa, while he was in Singapore.

Distance is a weed. Its thirsty fingers

creep, seeping the life from comforting soil.

Though, as it spreads, undying love lingers.

Our bond cannot break; can never uncoil.

You are a world away, yet you are here

with me. I hear your voice in the singing

of the weavers in the trees. To endear

his wife, the weaver knits their home - flicking

about ceaselessly to please his love. I

feel your embrace from across the seas when

I go to sleep in your sweater. It warms my

heart until I am in your arms again.

I can taste you on my lips as I take

a sip of scarlet wine; my pale cheeks grow

flushed, as if by your presence. I can make

out your face in the mountains tipped with snow.

They shelter me, they are my strength. I do

not worry, for I know just as I see

you, my soul and presence is there with you.

I live within you, as you do in me.