I stepped backward from reality
the distance at first the room,
you in the chair, talking,
me somewhere on the moon.
The silences grew wider
room broadened width to street,
I abandoned all that surrounded me
and looked inward to my feet.
Through this you kept on talking,
I, unrepentant, chose not to hear,
you warned about the distance,
your hopes, dreams and fears.
I stepped yet again backward;
twice more denied the world was real,
too late I woke from my imagination,
to find only echoes
of the love I didn’t heed.
© Copyright D. Archer October 2011