Waiting and Wondering on an April Sunday

Once upon a time in May, for a few brief months, I fled from you? I remember the day. A foolish day, a day I rue, it’s true. I’d wearied of my hopeless quest, never quite denied yet neither ever accepted other than through echoes of possibilities and those, perhaps, just fantasies.

Even on the day i fled I knew fate’s delight in confounding me was heavily at play and during those brief months your image haunted me and like a moth to flames drawn, close to the fire again I flew. Now, again seeking that which I most desire I find myself once more at hopeless new beginnings.

And my love for you is so complete, so full, so true, that despite your trials and jests I sit and wait for you. And sit, … and wait, and sit, … and wait, and sit and … wait for you.
_______

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