Poetry

(for Minette)
 
At times in the evenings I chat with you
where you are untouchable far away
when in thoughts I make images
but out of life you are missing painfully.
It’s only a type of dream world that I build
wherein just as then you look lovely,
where I can hold you tightly, can look at you,
to tell the truth you are always out of reach,
its memories that I do look at.