Can’t Wait
By birksy
The time, as if a rhyme, is ten past nine, and we walk through quiet streets, together, but secretly harbour another, who must certainly be on its way. And the quiet streets, stay still, locked up, But elsewhere, things are undoing, and air isn’t so tight. Not long now, so we wait, maybe I’ll have another chat, see what gives, so to speak, tomorrow seems too far away.Written the day before my first child was born. Written January 14th, 1999 © on Nov 05 2001 04:24 AM PST, Simon Birks 0 • 12
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"The time, as if a rhyme,..."