Is there a light somewhere
That glows right through
This cold winter in my head
Where nothing dares to move
For fear of being eaten
Is there a girl who smiles
In a warm and ionising glare
Pixels carved from softness
To warm me in my room
As I fight to stay awake
Will she bring lemonade
Or a pot of tea so sweet
For everything that has been
Leaves, blowing down the road
Waiting for the rain
I stand framed in my window
Waiting for the rain to fall
Waiting for the rain
How I love that sound...
Is there a map somewhere
That I will find and follow
Would it lead me to a house
With cases full of unread books
Bound and printed with truths
Is there a girl who knows
What things I long to feel
Will she read those books with me
Their spines still strong and new
As we move away from the other people
And we'll stand together there
Framed in sheets of glass that laugh
As we listen for the poem of rain
Lisping it's words on a concrete stage
How we'll love that sound...
B.. Alexander
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-sound-of-wilting-hours/
