Tonight, I, too, can write the saddest lines

And when I think of violins, I will think of you. You, waiting, as I walk toward you. You, smiling, your hands on your waist, holding promises of yet unseen blue skies and beautiful shorelines, of yet unknown pleasures shared in coffee cups and delightful lunches, in laughter, in conversations. 

When I think of trees, I will think of you leading me to one, trying to help me climb one. I will think of you leaping to cling to a branch, hooting and laughing, happy. I will think of you and me, falling in love with trees together. I will think of you reciting the names of shrubs and plants and flowers. I will think of you giving tea another name, though I will not remember the name, just you, saying it.

When I think of stars, I will think of you, gazing up at the night sky, tracing the constellations with your fingers. I will think of you and I, wrapped in a blanket, warm despite the cold, never more alive despite the hour, the dark. I will think of you, evermore my brightest star, always gleaming. I will think of you, always far away.

When I think of the sun, I will think of you, my sun--ever lighting up my life, shining on my most sought-after dreams. I will think of sunlight slanting across my most peaceful afternoons, peaceful because you are there, because you are you. I will think of bright, fragrant mornings, of clouds we once looked down at, of twilights I am no longer afraid of, because your light was there to ward off the gloom from the approaching dark. 

When I think of elsewheres, I will think of you. And my dreams will be alive where you are, they will go on unfolding, I will live where you are, my voice in the silence that will follow you everywhere. 

Always elsewhere, my love, ever elsewhere, never here.