Across a table you're so far away
Although our hands on it are intertwined.
I search for something wittier to say
To keep your head and eyes ever inclined
Towards me in interest, not turned aside
To see what else may seem of interest here.
I worry that I am no more supplied
With that which keeps your concentration clear
And on me than I am equipped to make
The table that we lean across - and yet
No matter what detours I seem to take
In our discussion, or what I forget,
You stay with me, your eyes locked in on mine
And you know what? That really suits me fine.
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