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
knowing I only have
to close my eyes
to see you 
open my heart
to feel you
open my arms
to hold you

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