The draining board

it’s when you reach out to touch her and find she’s not there
and you’re just dreaming again, do you think dreams are fair?

I get lost, can’t remember
and the night closes in
and the morning’s a long way
sometimes I begin,
but never make the connection
between romance and real,

if time heals then why so
and why is it so slow
why do these hands reach still
does anyone know?

It’s late and it’s chilly
the winter has come
but it was always
the flip side
the dark of the sun.

© 2017, John Smallshaw.