I'm waiting,
For the sky
To open up
And drop
You at my feet.

Dressed up
In high
Waisted pants
And a bouquet
Of flowers
I hope you
Would like,

When I see
You, tumbling
And shaking
Your fall,

It'll sound like
Whistles of
A happy man
Going on
His day,

It'll show
In the way I
Tap my feet
And fiddle my
Fingers,

My eyes will
Drop your gaze
And my hands will
Tremble along
The tune,

And I'll write
Your name
Upon pages
Of a watered
Down book,

Filled with sentences
And stanzas
That have lost
Their muse,

Sentences filled
With crazy and
Passion, illusions
Of cursed letters,

That attached
Themselves
Upon my skin
Making me a
Slave of
my words.