WAITING

the days are a grave;
the hours
until I see you again,
piled too high,
bury me,
suffocating:
too many
cold, colourless,
dead days.
I wait,
sometimes sleeping,
always dreaming,
while warm winds
blow the weight away
slowly lifting it
from my darkened eyes,
longing for the sun to shine
on another moment with you,
my only life,
my single joy,
the breath of my soul,
my resurrection.

Please don't forget
that I'm down here
waiting to be with you again.