All the while we stand silently there
Staring aimlessly at minutes gone by.
Flighty love shining hopelessly bare
Waits endlessly, and leaves, asking why.
All the while you look at me, tender,
Like a blooming rose on a frail headland.
And smile, on the sly, knowing that love's long slender
Mind drools of slimy tears that fall on waiting hands.
That while you hesitate to keep open
That heart gate, for love warmer than known blood.
You slipped on the slimy grass of a love to happen
And trudged ahead of a waiting, frothing flood.
Perhaps the good Lord
Might help with another Moses' rod.