I miss you.
My lips miss you.
My fingers miss you.
How can it be I don’t feel you anymore?
Fear. Yearning. My heart aches.
I miss you.
My lips miss you.
I miss. You.
How comes that windflower stands alone
and doesn’t feel sick about her comrades?
The sky, vast as ever, sends a smile. 
Sky can not miss other sky.
Sky sends gentle wind caresses
to my lips, to my skin, top to toe.
Love, vast as ever.
No flower ever stands alone.