and distant waves
we waive the necessity
of presence
and absence weaving
warp and weft and weep
what we miss most
are wishes
the way we while away the time
waiting, wondering
whether the waiting
is wasted on the waves
splash and hiss
the mist on the windows
there are waves
and then there are waves
the weather leaves traces,
whispers about leaving
we waste ourselves
on walls and wishes
what will wash away
and what remains
there are windows
and there are windows
which one is which.
