my mother used to tell me
not to wish time away

when I was a young girl,

and yet, I find myself wishing
for the next time
that you are near.

I steal long glances,
gazing upon your sunkissed face
when you look away,
tracing the lines ’round your eyes
with mine.

the cadence of your voice is
etched to memory.

I count the days since our last encounter
like a metronome
beating time till our next.

and everything I dare not say aloud
lies hidden in this hollow heart,
a whisper away from hope.

---

This poem belongs in the realm of imagination. Mine appears very committed to a good story, and I may be a bit of a hopeless romantic.

Classic 🎶