You don't know,
but to hear you,
is nearly impossible.
It's as if you were at your home,
I was at mine,
and you were saying something.
Without a phone,
Without a Mike,
Without a pen and paper.
Saying all you needed to say,
But you were too far away for me to hear,
I tried.
I came out of my home.
But I could hear:
The wind whispering,
The cars going by.
If I strained my ears hard enough,
I heard a familiar hum
Through the heavy silence.
But it was too far to be comforting,
Too illegible to be heartfelt.
And so next time,
If you really mean it,
Come home.
Maybe if we had the same home,
We would be able to have a conversation.
I'd get to listen,
You would still get to say.
To what you were saying all along.
