When Then

Misted rain, soft and springy,
June. Already? Our chance has passed
Was it ever really a chance

Or just a date I selected at random
When you pressed for the answer
When?

May!
I said, May, flustered and
A little mad that I had to know
When, when?
A month too far distant (in December) to consider
It might never come to pass…
May has fled
And now… it’s June

You are still there and I am still here
And we stand staring
Looking across
This chasm of space
Cut by time’s white water rapids
Growing deeper, if no wider,
As the weeks, and months,
And then the years pass.

We dream but refuse
To plan for the essential eventuality
We dream loudly, we dream frantically
We reach across and feel the phantoms of each other
Held tighter than lovers
But if we do not step forward

If we only ask
When
And do not say
NOW!

It might never come to pass.