waiting whilst watching the wind whipping the willow trees,
watching whilst waiting for the milk man to come,
wondering where wishes I made as a child
have escaped to, like silent whispers of the night.

whipping the milk into cream, spilling it all over the floor,
watching the cat from next door lick it up,
wondering if it's pregnant or fat.

the wind whistles wordlessly
making me gulp my wine,
as nervously I tiptoe
silently to my bed
remembering my lover sublime.

wonder and wait, watch and wonder
but always remember the dead.
because waiting to remember,
watching as you wait
is nothing if it came too late.