The Waiting

Smoldering at the bottom of the hillside

and reflecting in these starlit waters

the last light

The night a dark cascade of leaves

now falling and calling to me

this forgetting's private chamber

Laden with the scent of late blooming roses

mingled or conjured with the scent of you

heavy air

I stare

continents, oceans

years across

am lost,

aimlessly wand'ring through mountains of mem'ry

Night winds carrying your long silent voice

then leaning into the sound as to you

holding fast

moments pass

then splinter away

foolish scheme

this dream

yet I wait

for a sign that might never come