you have the snow covered roof tops
i have white sands beside the sea
sixteen hours chart the distance
from my hot buns to your cold feet
the hands count the minutes
as my faucet constant drips
my mind recalls your photograph
like an old computer chip
the purse that holds the candy
now is empty no more kiss
what once held the sweetness
all the sugar that i miss
a thousand miles seems much closer
if we would laugh i hear the sound
if we could touch i know the feeling
station greyhound wheels are turning
north south expressway lonesome town

Sonja Kuehnle