Almost

Another night and I am
cold
writhing between sheets, paper
thin
wondering, if somewhere you are
just
as cold
as me.

Your hands, grip the edge of the
bed
and your eyes refuse to
shut
and you're hoping I'm still awake--
just
as restless
as you.

I only know the warmth of your
heart,
and the sound of your strong
voice
though I've yet to hear it, I am
just
as impatient
as you.

You sleep knowing that
soon
you'll be led in my
direction,
and you'll be
just
as thankful
as me.

In Words Unspoken...

An old man sits in a chair by the window,
Watching the grass grow,
Watching life pass right on by.
The chair creaks, the floors moan,
Silence reigns, loneliness has already moved in.

With no hands to bring any warmth,
He sits as a stone.
He sits and watches the summer,
Unable to reach out and touch it,
Paralyzed by nothing else but his own indifference.

Once upon a time, there was hope for something more,
With silence he has killed it,
With silence he has killed himself.
Unwilling to be vulnerable, unwilling to open up,
Has left him locked up inside, unable to break out.

An old man sits in a chair by the window,
Watching the grass curl up,
Watching the snow fall.
One tear falls from his brown eyes,
One word whispered in the pain.

And to think, things could have been different. . .