The light begins to take cover under a sea of clouds;
the clouds move closer and grower darker and darker.
I keep the light off in my room, waiting for the rain to
begin, and hoping for the chance to show you a photo.
You are stuck in North Queensland being burnt by the
sun every day; I sit here in the cold, wet winter I love.
The night creeps closer, and the sky becomes darker,
as the rain starts to fall and move down the window.
I take a series of photos, then send my best one to you,
although I think you will say the weather is yucky again.
The night sets in. I imagine you out and about in the
garden, talking to the neighbour or cooking dinner for two.
You stay locked in North Queensland, and I stay locked in
Gippsland, as we wait for the chance to hug and kiss again.
The light is a faded memory on the horizon, as twilight loses
to the night and the absence of moon and stars leaves only
the reflection of someone I should know better in the window.
