Dream at my feet

They have called me at last,
after almost completing  this story,
after walking the sky in search of wings,
finally the call comes for me to stay
just next to you, or
perhaps in the same region where you are.
This, in the beginning, seemed to me
as a cruel joke from the God, just so I could
wait much much longer than I did so far,
and finish this race hoping that someday
this would end.
But on a second look, I found it was true,
and if I decide, I would probably
breathe the same air that you do,
walk the same streets that you walk,
touch those entry doors that you do
to enter some shops,
sit and eat on the same chairs and tables, that you
might have used just a day before
at that corner cafe,
and who knows? perhaps meet the same person and
shake hands with him, whom you had
hugged last week, and get to know
instantly that you were there with him,
because he would still be smelling
like the fragrance from your neck, or
just like the back of your ears.
If God wants, I may even see you from behind,
and watch the back of your
skirt, swinging in the morning breeze,
although only for a moment, just before you
vanish into your car and drive away.
And all these affairs of getting too close to you
and yet staying too far, would be

still acceptable to me,
only if I dare to bring my own dreams down
on this earth, not thinking anything about
the years that have passed between us
and the empty space that had filled it.