Waiting for a time
The smoke swirls up into the cold night,
It is morning,
Yet, awake I remain.
A solitary street lamp provides all the illumination I need.
An unmade bed,
A call to the senses,
To lull me off to some strange half forgotten land,
To bring me away to relieve my mental tenseness..
The truth is not kind,
The world is not mine,
Yet I allow myself this cruel taunt by fate,
Still I wait.
I need someway out of this half blind trap,
A move away from this unfinished rap,
But the night gets older,
The smoke gets thicker.
I still remain waiting for a time,
I remain hung on this line,
A distant cry from the recent past,
A reluctant shot into the willing future.
By Ezra © 2002. All Rights Reserved.
