Wait, waiting, waited

Long ago, men went to the sea, and women waited for them, standing on the edge of water, scanning the horizon for the tiny ship.
Now, I'm waiting for my love.
I'm waiting for him, scanning the sky for the tiny aeroplane.
Each moment that I wait feels like a year.
Each moment I can see infinite moments lined up, waiting.
He is coming back, and I'm here, waiting.

Why is love intensified by absence?

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