Waiting

Time flies and yet,

Had I wanted to,

I could not have arrested it

Or imprisoned it with greater effect.

Without,

Seasons pass and return,

While within,

Only the falling of leaves,

Or the crimsoning of the sky at sunset

Marks the passage of time.

For the fires that once burned

Burn still:

Fires which time has not dimmed

Nor disappointment quenched yet.

And so,

The passage of years has altered naught.

Only this –

The wait has lengthened,

And grown eternal.