She watched the clock’s hands
gripping an hour of crystal,
waiting on the return of intimacy’s shadow
that foretells love lost
in the open spaces of the heart.
Remaining faithful to her lover,
whose dark frame will encase the doorway.
She felt the gripping turmoil
encircle the walls lined with
years of loneliness.
His beautiful smile, with flagrant gestures
of a less than nurturing spirit.
She will sit and wait …
no matter how long it takes,
as a clock’s motion is moving backward.
Red Wolf Journal Spring 2014, and a fresh start
2 years ago