The buddleia's adrift with wings,
bird song hangs in shimmering air.
The day is ripe with sensuous things,
but I am here and you are there.
The stocks' night-scent is warm and sweet.
The river's singing soft and clear.
Evening soothes the summer's heat,
but you are there and I am here.
All's lost on me - the butterflies,
bird song and scented evening air.
I pace the garden, wish again
that you were here or I were there.
We were not made to be alone -
we fit, and knew it from the start.
We can't be whole until we're home,
hand in hand and heart to heart.
My powerless longing strikes me dumb,
but I will call and you will hear,
and I will wait until you come,
and you are here and I am here.
If you've any comments on this poem, Sarah Willans would be pleased to hear from you.