i fantasise about someone i will never feel.
with but a whisper of my arrival, she retreats into the distance again.
i linger in her wake.
waiting. wishing.
she is precious. she is perfect. but she is only a promise.
if i listen, i can sometimes hear the plea of the present. faint, but faithful.
come back to me, she says, i'm right here.
only when you let go of the future is she one day all around.