There Are These Times
When all I can do is wait,
even though the measure of an hour,
drifts past the minutes climbing walls,
I never do find the ledge,
the place where a sunrise could lead me further,
instead, I hang against the cold concrete,
always a shallow recess for me to lean against.
There is one girl, really more a woman,
certainly the elegance I suggest is inherent
in just how special her look, her eyes, smile,
just how beautiful she is
would be to describe that nirvana,
the other side of reality.
Inside a dream is her grace,
special, soft, sweet, in kind,
she will smile away the mortar,
the wall that crumbles,
so that when the dust does settle,
will she be standing nearby,
to hold up a passage way,
a certain delicious light,
the sort we might wish upon
in our wildest fantasy.
Would we if possible
step away from the fear,
and embrace our delight,
knowing there is a certain wonder
in the quiet serenity,
we seek within our soul.