across the dark arc
of the sky
I want to think
you're thinking of me,
sitting in your favorite chair,
an open book, forgotten
in your hands.
I want to think your hands
are wanting me,
my skin imagining your touch,
my eyes remembering
your eyes,
looking at me.
Somewhere along the line
that spans the distance
in between us
my thoughts of you will find
your thoughts of me
and bloom in the night
like a new star
beneath this half-a-moon,
this moon I want to think
you might be looking at
right now
outside the window
by your chair,
thinking of me, across the dark
arc of the sky,
writing this poem for you.
-- Deb Cooper