Weak!
All we are is just frail.
With fragments of hope pendulous in thin air.
We are the children of the night, clinging to what people left after dusk.
We're twisting, turning, looking, longing.
Blue eyes over gray hair on white sheets.
Thoughts of home and dreams of rest, of an inside as prodigious as the sea.
We mechanically move to the sound of a different song-the small whisper left unheard.
With the heartbeat for a kick drum and our actions as voices, we will sing while we wait!