Waiting

Kagrenac Downey, Staff Writer

Alone I’ve been for a thousand years,

Waiting for a hidden lover’s call.

What more is a day with her endless tears?

To love me they offered; filled me with fear.

I hid, slew the searching, and enjoyed the fools’

fall.

Alone I’ve been for a thousand years.

Afraid to be close, afraid to be near,

Like shadow dancing away from hours tall.

What more is a day with her endless tears?

Patiently, here I wait and here I hear

And listen for a hopeful savior’s call.

Alone I’ve been for a thousand years

“Maybe I would paint my wrists crimson, my

dear,

Were I not full of hope for you and hate for all.

What more is a day with her endless tears?”

And so I wait, for break of day and fear,

And hope, like Byzantium, refusing to fall.

Alone I’ve been for a thousand years.

What more is a day with her endless tears?