I while away these days,
A withered soul with but one purpose;
I wait.

Your picture holds my gaze.
A staring contest to show my patience.
I wait.

My life drolls on repetitively,
Each moment in that little hour glass.
I am my own metronome.
Each moment in that little hour glass.

You told me you needed time,
Foolishly, I promised you all of mine.
And just like the calculated descent of the sand,
so my life goes.