a canyon and a wall

a thousand emails
cancel out to
nothing,
only noise -

a cacophonous monotony
that can't replace
your voice.

the distance now between us is
a canyon and a wall -
much too deep navigate and
way too high to crawl.

sweet dandelion wishes,
softly floating on the wind -
little seeds that fly away
and don't come back again.

i whisked a dandy floater
up into the sky,
saw it safely on its way
and didn't ask it why

cause you don't ask dandelions
where they're headed,
where they've been.
you kiss them once and let them go
a'floating on the wind.

(this came out all at once, like one poem, but reading it back again, it sounds like it should be two. what can you do? art.)