You and I we drift apart,
like otters that don’t do their part.
You talk I l don’t, my turn to wait
but when do we communicate?
Perhaps there is a gap between,
or maybe just a deep ravine
in which my words get lost for good,
echoing booms deep in the wood.
Huge gaps, deep seas, mountains away,
forever have I lost my say.
My voice is carried far, dazed,
my eyesights blurs, hazed.