A Morning Poem

Your words traveled the net
And caressed me for hours that night,
Seeming like notes in some eternal song.

Seven hundred miles by map
From here to there,

Yet much less distance
Between you and me:

Your voice became mine,
And my voice yours.

We rode horses beneath a summer’s moon,
We let our eyes speak across candle fire,
In our imaginations.

We were so
Unbounded

Not much later, I saw
The real moon beyond my door
Shining like some timeless spirit
In the growing dawn.