Say Uncle.

I decided to go to sleep about 45 minutes ago, which (of course) meant anything but that would happen. Instead I ended up writing this poem.
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"Say Uncle."

I am not a part of you, and you are not a part of me.
I say that it’s sad, but, to live, that’s the way it must be.

I had fallen for years yet could never find the ground.
And then a shoulder shared happily, a shelter sound.

You saw the gravity in me, and you were pulled.
You saw the force beyond me, and quick grew cold.

I don’t float on air; I descend through: mile forty and one.
Strata of air, milestones of fear, block light from the sun.

You find the ground on which you stand erodes, and to me you wave.
But to one fallen from the sun, sight lies near: this far gesture won’t save.

A touch will not reach; kind eyes cannot this gap breach.
The only tool to save us now is painful speech.

Say Uncle.
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As you might have guessed, poems aren't exactly my forte. (Not that I really have one, but it's nice to imagine that I'm good at something.) Anyway, when I do write poems they never rhyme. Another rule broken--although maybe the last line can be my safeguard. I tried to keep the consonants within the couplets fairly even. Does it seem that this led to awkward phrasing/description? I can't see any particular place that this happened, but I knew my intended meaning, so it would be rather unnatural for me to say, "Oh, that's weird. What the hell is meant by this?" (All things considered.) It started out coming from an awareness of a battle of prides, but I didn't want to discount the origin, and so it became a sort of love poem. Comments and criticism would be awesome, especially since this is relatively new ground for me.

x a.h.