"If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all my life." - Wilde, Oscar
We sit apart like lovers sharing silent disagreement,
You looking out the window; me with my book.
Groceries in your hand I'd gladly carry,
But you remain distant like mountains -
Unmoved with that faraway look,
Yet hardly aloof gazing at obscurity
Into your unknown future,
Or your forgotten past.