Love,
This is, by far,
The closest we have been –
In dialogues with the clouds,
Floating high over
Vales and hills
Following Wordsworth
A little too much,
For knowing no bounds!

Love,
This is, by far,
The closest we have been –
In photographs and
Phone galleries
By stitching moments,
etching expressions
And fetching smiles;
Mimicing the moon
Like its crescent,
Across ten thousand miles!

Love,
This is, by far,
The closest we have been –
In Japanese whiskeys
And American beers
Counting days plus
Cherishing time,
Sip by sip –
Steady and slow
With some sugar,
And a whole lotta spice!

Love,
This is, by far,
The closest we have been –
Every Christmas
Living its vibe –
Happiness and laughter
Sweaters and snow
Presents and candies
And yes,
A telephonic mistletoe!

Love,
This is, by far,
The closest we have been –
In texts and in jests
In verses and in rhymes
A little less chaotic,
A little more poetic
Breathing
Between the lines!

// To twelve weeks or less.
Qurbat ~ an Urdu term for closeness.