Sonnet - Magic

How is it that thou, so far away, 

Despite how limited our dialogue,

Can read me as intently, every day,

As any book in all world's catalogue?

How is it that thou so deftly reach,

Across such distance vast, and touch my soul?

And how, my love, with ne'er a word of speech,

Cause me, my very breath, to lose control? 

How is my heart so completely swelt, 

Without the touch that such feelings demand;

And how do I so often glow and melt,

Having never touched thy warmth from out thy hand?

Surely thou art magic, I am sure,

Thy sorcery, it renders me demure.

- © Jackson Cambridge, 2015.