Sunday, October 20, 2002

a poem, by Michael Sherrillo

So close, and yet so far away,
My neighbor across the street.
Why is it a few yards of air,
Feels more like miles of concrete?
Because, as my heart reaches out to yours,
You quietly, peacefully, sleep.

All I need do is pick up the phone,
to rouse you from Sandman's keep.
But I think it'd be best,
If I just followed suit,
Since I know I'll see you
In my dreams.

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