progress

starting at a and moving toward b,
I follow my progress on a map,
a smooth, steady line:
soon I will arrive.

my life with you is nothing like this.
we talk progress and make none.
we talk journey and stay still.
we talk growing and shrink,
we talk closeness and know distance.
we talk love and know indifference.

the reason is simple.
you said it yourself:
'my ways are not your ways' you said.
though I can't help wishing it were not so