Waiting for You

It was that beautifully bright spring morning
when I was waiting for you,
under a light blue, sun-stained, breathless sky,
taking in the violet view

Of foxgloves nervously brought into bloom
and grass weighed down by early dew.
A young couple holding hands passed me by
while I was waiting for you.

They talked and laughed and glowed, enough to blind
with envy of wanting too
but I kept looking, it hardly mattered,
since I was waiting for you.

Caught off guard by a fumble in the trees,
a dove flew into vision.
I was an unassuming spark amidst
her tender firework show.

Giving promise of technicolour dreams
and life in pink, fresh and new,
she lured me in, tempted my racing heart
when I was waiting for you.

And suddenly, when I looked up at her,
a rush of cool breeze blew through
like a shot, swept the hair from out my eyes
as I was waiting for you.

Seeing an enhanced world for the first time,
lost, and found, and lost again.
Wilting and thriving,
bathing and drowning,
flying and falling
all at once in your beams of summer light.

Like a lull in an eternal ocean
there was nothing I could do,
because all this time I hadn’t known it.
I had been waiting for you.