We pass without meeting
pupils crushed to specks
in the whispering sun.
I make a wish
on a fallen eyelash
but it doesn’t take.
–
Your dress sways and flourishes
like butterflies in love.
The air smells of mocha
and hints of vanilla.
Sultry clouds pout from above.
–
I watch you dismantle
a sheet of paper,
fragile hands closing like a tourniquet
over each syllable.
–
From the other end of the veranda
my heart sweats in empathy
if only I could breach the gulf
that stretches between us.
–
Desperately behind in my wordling
mindlovemisery 
Heart wrenching
yearning heart, love the way different senses are engaged
Write when you can…
I like that bit about the eyelash wish… sometimes we are so desperate we hope and depend on the most odd bits… of folk lore and myth.
And the dress swaying like butterflies in love – a delightful capture 🙂
Thank you Jules you are so kind