For a while I have been searching a place,
where I’m sure to find you and see your face.
My search has got me half way round the world,
like a travel bug at night in my bed I’m curled.
As another Friday night passes a day on the calendar I strike,
telling myself that I’m almost half way there.
The miles roll on as the white stripes of the road go by,
by living the yesterdays of your memories I get high.
I see this as her delay rather than her absence,
as I sit in my window seat I feel closer to her presence.
The nights and days seem alike with a mixture of darkness and light,
as I spend this time in recreation and write.
Worn down by the travel no matter how much hope I loose,
your face and memories in my heart always gives me new hope.
- Memories of Distant Places (huffingtonpost.com)