Space is

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Space is

what isn’t .

The bits inside

between

around the edges.

The bits we don’t see

a void to be filled

by something more worthy.

 

In the space between things

stars grow and wild grasses.

Stray cats take the sun

and sparrows squabble.

Flowers grow tall and unheeded

around unwanted white goods

and the rusting carcasses of old vans.

 

When all space was ours

we wandered the zone between

and found wonder in tiny forgotten things.

The sun fell on our faces

and the soft rain

and our ears were full of birdsong

and the crooning of the stars

on moonless nights.

 

Now there is your space

and my space

two planets orbiting

never to touch.

My space fills

with memories of you

and the colour of your touch

the chatter of sparrows

and the swift sweet scent of thyme.

And your space

swings out of reach

arid and empty

to join the great vastness

of the place in between

the beating of broken hearts.

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