Waiting for raindrops,
To seize my dry lips,
Unknot my brow,
Ease my within,
Waiting to hear,
My silent sprouting joy,
But, waiting for it, of course!

Just so, or more,
Waiting for words,
That may be just words,
But waiting to see that mouth,
Shape those words,
And even waiting to hear them,
Feather-touch my ears.

But, with such dreams conjured,
Time is my cruel master,
Each moment- a knife,
Incisive and cold,
Cutting through my heart,
Deceiving my faith.

Still! waiting for my love,
Whose nectar divine,
Heals my soaked wounds,
Whose standing form,
Brings the quivering shadow of hope,
Back into my eyes,
Whose very sight,
Brings back my smile.
Waiting!