The Vigil
My anticipation like shimmering evanescence
Over a mountain stream.
In the stillness of the dark
My senses fine tuned, straining,
So as not to mistake any whisper of movement,
Any rustle in the night.
My body tense, my eyes wide,
Serching the shadows for some glimmer of light.
I feel I've been waiting here for hours,
But only seconds have gone by.
The need to see you, touch you,
Is a physical pain.
Robbing me of the ability, to move, to think.
Causing even the shallowest breath
To be held in case I miss the Sound of your step.
As the sun begins to rise,
A single tear, like dew on a petal,
Sits on my cheek.
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