Waiting For Love
A night so dark in central park
a silence hanging in the air,
and by the gates a woman waits
with ruby lips and raven hair.
She dreams of love, as mourning dove
trills for his mate as birds will do;
her heart on fire with deep desire
while waiting for her lover true.
Her silent plea where can he be,
to make her wait is not his style;
but his delay her heart’s dismay,
it seemed so hopeless for a while.
Then on the slope a thread of hope
someone is walking down the strip;
though light is dim she knows it’s him,
a breathless sigh pours from her lip.
His eyes of green can now be seen,
his beautiful and smiling face;
her dreams restart as lover’s heart
held in a fathomless embrace.
March 2, 2020
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