My Aunt And I

Drinking new kids of tea,

Singing sit-com songs,
Resting on front porch swings,
Taking pictures of you and me.

Laughing at the same joke over and over again.
Taking life slower,
Free spirits and open minds,
Lovers of theater and worlds of pretend.

Getting lost in the same kind of music,
Fancy drinks, strong perfumes.
Later mornings and later nights,
Being called a dreamer and a mystic.

People who probe and people who pray,
Writing poetry in dark cafes.
Clothing of expression and jewelry too big,
People who have something to say.

We are connected at the soul.
Perhaps that's why, there is this
deep hole;
When you're not near,
When you're not here.

I try to chase this sadness down,
Yet am only led to
a realization and a frown:
That this hole may never be filled,
while this is true still:
That I am here, and you are there.

Yet, I have hope because I believe
that sky can't separate:
nor road, nor state,
or even fate,
people bound in spirit.
And even when far apart,
We dwell together always,
In the depths of my very deep heart.