You

You're half a world a way,
And every single day
My thoughts begin to stray.
Concentration does not stay.

I often think of you
Until sky's no longer blue.
Mind wandering ensues;
Your face emblazoned true.

My days are dreary yellow;
I'm no longer mellow.
My heart plays sad cellos;
I can't connect with fellows.

In sun I see but fog.
Each day will but bog
As sun slowly jogs
Just as a tired dog.

Will it ever come true,
And suddenly eschew
A day no longer blue
That brings a sigh, a "Phew!"?

Will future present shove
Afar and away all of
The pains I'm sick of
And so impatient of?

It is but only you
That will bring fruition to
Happiness yet undue;
And dreams will be made true.