I wait for you
throughout the day
in silent driving
and in conversation.
Your presence
bleeds though
like burgundy thread
on Sunday whites
staining my seams red.
Under a branched sky
you are sun’s rays
that touch and yet
never touches.
In stillness
I strain to hear
but only leaves murmur
in evening breezes.
And when night cowls
forest green to ash
and moonlight silvers trees
– in darkness I stand
at the open window
and wait.
May 23 2006
WandeRoseD 