You were there
once,
across the distance,
with me on the other side,
and I was aching
to see you.
Children, we were,
casually stepping out
of ourselves endless times:
where you and I
were happy
in this light.
Our other lives came,
which seemed more,
shinning,
like a carousel’s ring;
and I came
stepping into my own,
into the present,
longing for them.
—Stephen Cipot
