Across the spitting seas where cold waters
meet shivering land, a blanket of light
wraps everything in it's grey wool: buildings
mountain, the sky. Claustrophobic clouds
low in the grey sky! Everything but
a hands-breadth patch of city basking
in warm light.
Somewhere in the grey, in one of the grey
buildings you're sitting under the orange
glow of a hanging bulb, doing whatever,
unaware that I'm wishing, with everything
in me, to be with you
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