here again is that anticipated
when of you,
more of if than of ever
and I tell myself I can picture
your bare feet
on my floorboards
convince myself I wouldn’t mind
the invasion
of my space – its sanctity
overrun by the solid reality
of an other
sweeping aside the silent hours
for tangible skin –
currently irrelevant
in intangible when
© Sarah Whiteley
ebbtide 