
like a fly crawling across the screen door on a hot August afternoon time passes in slow plodding steps when you are gone I listen to the cicada scream in the trees the heat of the day grows as I coax another minute on the clock to stumble into the past you are never far from my thoughts still I count the minutes the hours the days until I hear your voice again knowing I only have to close my eyes to see you open my heart to feel you open my arms to hold you ~