I see a distance in the impression of something complicated, perhaps a modern building that was given time.
I see the glance from the interior of a living room into a thought.
I see the brush strokes of something artificial but very pleasant.
I see something created for impression-sake to drive all matter into the landscape of contemplation.
It is an exercise of the mind wandering, to an unknowable place, a softening of the blow.
It is an ice castle and red roses.
It is my thoughts about someone I shall never tell.
This is the time I stand in wait,
Leaving all the balls on her plate.
There is a cold wind and an icy stillness but movement otherwise.
There is hope, but there is also a beautiful reality that this is not my time, but her’s and that is the point.
I am a man.
I am here to protect.
It is my job to take responsibility.
I am the last guardian of the moods of my woman, for she cannot see me yet.
I am only to remind her of the truth and justice that she believes is there.
And what shall come to pass is what she wishes.
I believe in her.