Behind the glass, is my heart.
I would hug you, and not realize
That each time,
It was a gift.
I would punch you, or push you
Unbeknownst to me, that one day I wouldn’t be allowed to.
I reached for you
But could not touch you.
I cried for you, but my tears were futile.
I extended my hand to the glass,
your hand matched mine on the other side.
It was the closest I could get,
to a touch;
a hug was out of the question….
But, in a few months, the glass will be gone.
I hope the Caribbean breeze will make your limbs strong,
Because when I see you,
It will be the first time after I realized that
is a gift.
So brace yourself, and know
That when I grab a hold,
I will squeeze,
and hours will go by
Before I let go