Pandemic Love, by Adrian McRobb

I see her less and less these days
moving away through white muslin
losing her, day by lonely day
her careless laugh, a blown kiss
further and further away
in folds of a waking dream

He tried to warn me, Newman
told me of wet face kisses
that wrench of sudden parting
May and September months apart
especially, it would seem
by frogs migratory ponds

Tiring easily of stolen moments
leaving a trail of bread crumbs
looking for that elusive something
that doesn't exist, books lie about love
always missing the sum total
he said it would hurt... he was right!