Richard M. Ankers - Author

 A word without end.
 Be it near, far,
 Just out of reach,
 Or a universe away
 It makes no difference
 If I cannot touch you;
 Stroke your sweet face;
 Drown in your eyes.
 The image of your
 Gilded smile,
 Windswept hair.
 So intangible a word,
 And ultimately,
 No closer than the first.
 Maybe the two should combine,
 Join together
 In twisted conjunction
 To spite my hopes?
 I shall wrap the pair,
 Package them together
 And post them.
 ‘The address?’ you ask.
 Why, ‘misery’ of course,
 The third of the triumvirate,
 And sum total
 Of my melancholy.

 (Image courtesy intoyourheart on deviantart.com)

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