It is the hour of always, at this time
you are obvious in my eye
and wispy layers of vivid thoughts
gather in the grace of sentiment
embellishing the sounds of a frail mind
  
It is the hour of always
at this time, I cannot heed a blink’s delay
suspended on the lid  of a solitary thought;
running to your side
  
                                                                ­     A second is three days away
                                                            ­                                    I cannot wait

   I am me in the absence of me
losing ground within your stance
arriving in your arms
drowning slowly in place
I am sound within your hands