I will wait
One day I’ll meet a person,
She’ll be painfully familiar.
Time tics on,
beckoning,
I slowly start to hear her.
Waves on gentle waves,
pictures getting clearer.
Coloring my pages,
a song sent from her soul.
I’ll try to keep from falling,
but I’m bound to lose control.
I’ll recognize
a heart like mine
in words they share with me.
Doubt will start to wither and die,
kindness shapes belief.
I’ll be patient for the day
you love me shamelessly.
Sore muscles fit to burst,
is this the day my song is heard?
This poem came disorganized,
my heart begins to hurt.
Terrified to realize.
My thoughts,
I barely recognize.
I’m not ready.
My hand is far too unsteady.
But there’s no rush.
This is all mine,
a bristled, damp paintbrush.
Cower.
I can’t afford to yearn.
That way lies
a fourth degree burn.
I don’t have to touch just yet,
let canvas collect dust.
It’s not too late to turn away,
there’s insides to adjust.
On that day
there would be left
plenty of my time.
Why would I ever need to rush?
Dawn will be sublime.
There is not one,
but two of us.
My breath returns,
fresh air,
old lungs.
It’s me I’m thinking of,
I’ll See The Signs
and for the person I become,
I’ll Take My Time
wait for my own kind of love,
This Heart Of Mine
Won’t Fall But Rise Above.