Waiting

   By Bearurr

Early morning light suffuses the dawn, the reds, pinks and yellows,

blossoming across the horizen, a myriad of light.
A silent tear escapes these weary eyes, another day, another night.
With an absent hand I wipe the tear and gaze onward, heart in hand.
Waiting, Waiting, Waiting.

The birds chirp-- but i do not hear.
The chicks peep to their mother for renewed strength.
But I do not hear.
The Squirrels search for nurishment.
But I do not hear.
Does the breeze blow across my face,

vainly trying to sooth this tortured soul?
I do not feel.
Does the sun attempt to unfreeze this heart,

with it's warm rays of light burning my body?
I do not know, for I am waiting.
Waiting, Waiting, Waiting.

My face turns to the sun, accusingly, how could you?
How can everything be continuing, when I sit and wait.
My soul slumbers, hiding within, afraid to venture out into the light.
She knows not of what is out there, without the blanket of her love.
So I wait..
Wait, Wait, Wait.

My heart is full, I know he comes.
I yearn for his arrival, for the sun to have meaning again,

for the breeze to touch this flushed skin once more.
But until I feel my lovers arms again,

I must wait within the half life I call now.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Where are you, right at this minute?
What are you doing?
Come to me.

                                                 (c) Bearurr, 1998  
Bearurr's Den
Bearurr's Love Poetry