The Bee

Two days ago I went skipping down
the country lane in Worchester
singing, beaming at the blue skies and green fields
and I thought of the one thing missing that would make this
scene perfect

and how if you were there, you would have fit in
whether I was walking, skipping, hopping
whether I walked for miles
whether I walked in silence or sang
whether I stopped every 2 seconds to take photos
you would fit, you would be okay
you would do the same things

you would say "watch your step" a thousand times
and grip my arm
as I slip-slid in mud or climbed over stiles
you would say, "we will go straight on then left, yes?

They tell us that over the next few days
the weather will get colder, to expect snow, sleet
and today I took another walk
I realised as I went out that your deep pockets were
(it hasn't been this cold since I was last with you)
no longer there to warm my hands,
so I wore the gloves you bought
then took them off when my hands got hot
and found I had no one's pockets to store them in

Sometimes I sit paralysed with frustration
because this long-distance thing
is just bullshit
its so much work, its trusting, its not knowing
its patience, its planning in a manner that seems
far too serious for such a short time
yet is necessary

But then I think about what the days would be like
without knowing you're somewhere out there
I think I might be able to get used to it
then I know that I don't even want to find out
if I could get used to it.

And to think, a year ago, I didn't believe in this sort of thing
anymore.

And now exists this man
who creates a different language with me
whom I learn new things about each day
silly things, like discovering that we have the same
habits, thousands of miles apart
like eating cereal last thing at night.