Poetry

Maybe far too long I have waited
for the time to come to meet you again,
to walk with you in the sieving winter rain,
to with you be elated
 
about small happy things,
to forget the heartache and pain
and with you in my arms to remain,
and together to live through happy tidings.
 
With us there is no end to love, it lingers
but maybe it’s just another act
on the stage of life,
that is trying to slip through my fingers
but through the years it tries
to remain intact
while nights and days dies