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I’ll wait for it, pray for it on my boney hands and knees,
Like a hungry beggar gasping for copper on the crowded street,
Eternal gratefulness will I give for the tasty bite of my first meal,
Luckily my legs have not got tired of my weight,

I’ll wait for it, while it crumbles beside me,
Flutters like fingers across my moist lips,
It’s the creaks in the floorboards, the cracks in the house,
The hiss of running water,

I’ll wait for it; perhaps it will blow away with the violent winds that come in June,
I’ll be left here, doomed by shortsighted eyes,
Become a withered old lady with writes block
And arthritic hands,

I’ll wait for it, maybe it will be what the cat drug in,
I’ll be the flowers in the summer and the first snowflake in the winter,
Become immortal, forever cherished,
I’ll wait for it, this love that wanders aimlessly,
Not eating, not sleeping, just being,