There's a river between us.
Because of Cromwellian features.

Not the Trent,
nor, the Shannon,
but, the Styx.

There's an ocean between us.
Because of how far Cromwell, still, reaches.

Not the Pacific,
or, even, the Atlantic,
but, the briny depths of my dreams.

This insatiable thirst for the water of life.
This famishment for the salmon of knowledge....