Before I forgot the blue of your eyes, and before I lost the shape of your lips, and before the touch of soft slim hands faded, I was making my way back to you.
Though a thousand waves raged between us, and miles upon miles stacked against us, and planes and ships could not connect us, I was making my way back to you.
The army said they had bases near your home, and swore that our reunion was their priority, and that someday soon I would hold you again, I was making my way back to you.
Even when the desert wars cast my mortal die, and even through fire-filled and violent skies, and even in Landstuhl as I healed for a time, I was making my way back to you.
Now with a family and scars of a bloodied past, and now time between us so quickly passed, and now that visions and sounds begun to fade, I am making my way back to you.
I still hope upon love that I’ll see you again, and still love to hope that we’ll still be friends, who made love by the window gray with spring rain, I am making my way back to you.