I think of you.
I look at you, through you, deep,
Where the stuff of you flows thick,
Your eyes the colors of day slipping into night.

I think of your skin,
To touch your hands, to feel you,
To know, without doubt, that you are real:
Breathing the breath that was just in me,
Seeing the same world that I see.

I think of the moon in an early autumn sky --
A sliver, the shape of a woman, curvy,
Your eyes laughing.
I see the moon and think of you,
Of your eyes, smile, body, skin,
And wonder how the beauty of you
Can exist in the same world
Where sadness still exists.