Bliss beneath the Moon

Four eyes gleam with the same vision -
no spectacles are these -
two are mine, two are yours.

Common vision begets common thought
common thought begets common voice -
incoherent and unintelligble to the others -
running in subtext, we have our own language.
Dancing through daydreams, we share our musings
without regard for propriety or linearity of thought -
we can leap through quantums, holding hands and smiling.

We relive memories
we build dreams
we share laughter
we imagine the future
we commiserate the present.

Separated by continents - by time - it matters not, when

we are tied by the constant sameness of who we are together
even if our thoughts touch only for a brief moment -
before the tides of life pull us onwards.

Inexorably we grow up -
but nothing, it seems,
can make us grow apart.