Waiting Words

Cold fingers find waterfalls of words,
as if the hands have told the mind they will write this one,
moments linger in the still night air,
disconnected your heart beats life onto the page.

Stopping, walking away, thinking, sitting back down,
the body still flowing with the rythm of the now passed day,
where have you been? (ask me again?)
i think i have been hiding.

The predawn hours hold nothing but words.
The letters slowly form page by page,
remembering the ease of composure
when the heart and head are full.

Thoughts begin to resonate inside,
a whirlwind of memories swirling all around,
where have you been?(ask me again?)
i think i have been waiting.