Imagine Me - April 2

We're four hundred miles apart or maybe neighbours.
North and South of each other or across the street
but between us there are roads or doors or railway tracks.
We don't know each other yet, strange to each other
as our fields and glens, our rivers, lakes and seas
our hearths and kitchens. Our journeys to work,
our journeys home and the stories in our faces - unguessed,
unseen. We are hair and teeth and skin, ideas and thoughts
and histories that we'll have to unpack from carpet bags.
Long tales like hatstands - drawn up and out.
It could take all night. We are front doors, locks, letter
boxes - we are paths to the shops, to the library.
We are sheets and pillows, hot at night, dreaming
each other into being. Making up a future with sighs
wrapped tight as rubber band balls. We are coated and booted
gloved and scarved and yet to know each other. Miles apart
or near - we are making each other up.