To Be With You: IIThis heart that yearned for years to reach and touchTo Be With You: II11 hours ago in Traditional Fixed Forms
A soul whom it could intimately know
Was restless, and its eyes became its crutch.
These lonely times, it claimed, moved much too slow;
The hope that once burned brightly with each beat
Now felt too distant and invisible,
And so it sought to kindle its own heat
With scraps too finite, sinful, pitiful.
But in this barren wasteland rolled a storm
That rained down healing on the drought-cracked place.
There came a gust both comforting and warm;
I felt its hand caress my tear-stained face.
And I beheld with eyes a little dryer
That face for whom is all my deep desire.