You Send Me

Friend who I miss

you shared the sea with me,

and the moon

you presented on a string.



But you are ever

so far beyond my stretch.

Just like the moon

I cannot touch



but I would slip beneath 

the heave; become a fish 

to fly into your mirror,

surface from the deep 



of doubt that drags

me down then spews me up 

on waves of joy to rest in clouds 

that rain me back to earth



where I, of habit, wait

for signs; the odd bright shine

that dances on and on

the breathless ocean



you sometimes send me

in a jar, a crystal bottle, or

in a plastic sack of dreams. 

Friend who I miss, swim with me.