I waited for you - down by the Woodbine house on Kendrick Avenue. I must've told myself a thousand times that, when you arrive, I'd be just fine - sitting on the stoop collecting thoughts like puddles of rain.
Occassionally, a car would pass, thrashing through the puddles slashed interrupting my hopeful mind with violent doubt...
I waited for you - denying every reasonable thought and holding on to my childish dreams.
I'm still waiting for you - Though hope has long become desperate denial.