A poem from Myths

It’s been years

Since I’ve been so desperate

For morning to come

Counting minutes takes hours

And each brief burst of sleep

Is startled away by a glance

At the slow moving clock

I’ve grasped at every light

And turned the clamor of wind

Into you at my doorstep

Still, none of the tricks

My mind needs to play tonight

Can replace the moon

With sun

Or bring you back to me

Until night has finished

Allowing morning, and you,

To truly arrive

© Gayle Force Press 2004

• Poetry