The Waiting Days

how the story ends

she curls up warming
the foot of my bed
orange dog sleeps
snores with comfort
not known before

red polished toes
curl the bed’s edges
swing her legs cross
candlelit music dance
not known before

outside the thunder
bounces off trees
thirsty desert stones
reverberate sky
not known before

slowly time passing
another grain falls
these waiting days
linger the hours
not known before

something unfolds
in such new ways
lets hope emerge
how the story ends
not known before

– Previously Published 2008

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