To Whom It May Concern

Where the pavement ends is where I’ll be,
Waiting for words I long to read.
These tears you see are just rain,
Streams that fill empty drains.
The years have gone by a little faster as they pass,
And still the silence lasts.
Perhaps your words were lost on these streets,
Swallowed by my tears and the pace of my feet.
So I’ll turn over time and count the grains again,
Learn to master the art of patience but always wonder when.
Don’t worry, my faith still remains, I’ll be handed your words in a day or two.
Those words so real, I’ll swear it’s you.


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