I Think I Am Close Poem by Jerry Pike

I think I am close,
but I am far away,
not miles,
but mental continents.
My reach, long in hope,
longing and aching,
for a film partner.
A switch over, switch off,
warm hand.

Suddenly
time is real,
TV soaps sting to life,
their daubing depths
of cheap whitewash
overflow.
I think I am close,
but who to?
Nearer and nearer,
tomorrow’s sunset plays,
its red wine apologies,
mumble out of nowhere,
into my sieving mind.

I recall small promises blooming,
into wild rambling gardens full of verse,
scented daydreams wafting about me,
twisting and turning my head,
to waken, some long forgotten,
subterranean urge, sodden through,
but drying at my eager request.
I think I am close,
but I am far away.
And you are still
an unmet stranger.