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Waiting
June 27, 2008
There is a brook,
that shines so bright.
The sun is shining,
whether day or night.
Fish swim,
and birds are singing.
For Paradise
this is just the beginning.
There is a bench,
of cold smooth stone.
When are you coming?
I sit and wait alone.
There is a fragrance,
ever so light.
The smell is roses,
day and night.
The sun still shines,
the brook is blue.
It's missing something,
it must be you.
The birds still sing,
the bench is stone.
A thousand years,
and I'm still alone.
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