Somewhere, behind the sunset and over the rainbow, between the clouds and across the river, there is a girl who is always out of reach

Always a few inches from your fingertips

Always a bit farther than you can stretch

But you'll stretch anyway

You'll reach and you'll reach and you'll reach, until it doesn't matter what you're reaching for

It's the ache in your shoulder, the strain in your palm, the teaching and learning and growing

You'll never stretch far enough, but you'll be happy that you tried

Because the next girl will be a little closer, stand a little nearer, and you'll be happy your arms know the action of reaching as muscle memory

The girl behind the sunset is easy to love

Or, rather, she is easy to almost love - she won't let you get close enough to cradle her heart in your hands

She is accustomed to the "nearly"'s

"Almost"'s and "not quite"'s are her second language; she has long lost disappointment in reluctant expectation

The girl behind the sunset watches sweetly from another life

She smiles at the moon on her way out the door