Imagine. That I could pull you from the stars.
Imagine. Sixty second to fill with words
and long looks.
No time to waste on regret or sadness.
Imagine the gladness of a minute granted.
What would I say? Would I tell you how much
I adore you? No! Even though it is true;
I crave your nearness more than breath or bread
But it would be a waste of words, to tell you
what you already know.
Our minute lost, to foolishness when each portion is as gold
because you already know the depth and extent of my heart.
Would I say that I am sorry?
No, because the tears that flooded deserts are sunken now,
replaced sometimes by smiles and fossils of days remembered
watching geese fly north in autumn
Would I say sorry for a life unlived? That would just be foolishness
when you filled every moment with living, I was too busy
to notice you
I am not too busy now.
Would I say I regret the time we have been apart?
No! I do of course. But I have kept you close.
Sheltered in a constricted heart.
Sorry for not being there?
Again no! Because you are forever here
In the dust of every room, you are the flicker of our soul.
Would I say I miss you? I do, but you know that already.
I miss the sweet timbre of your voice, your eyes, your gentle hugs
and your mischief.
I miss your bones and your head below my chin. I miss that comfort
I miss everything you ever meant to me, and all you still do.
I miss you.
But those words need not be spoken, echoes of a broken heart
are words enough.
If we had sixty seconds Shaun, a minute only, I would hold you
and I would kiss you. I would tell you that there are no words.
I would tell you that you are here every day,
in the storm, the breaking dawn, the wind that blows off the sea
and the mountains.
I would tell you that a billion time sixty seconds
would never be enough.
And then. I would let you go again.
– Dave Kavanagh