He sits at the table, drumming the top,
thoughts wandering to pinpoint at that one face,
sitting among all those piles,
of books, reports and rotten files,
all he thinks of is the one he needs,
more than the air he breathes.
it ends not here but keeps nagging.
neither hunger matters nor work,
he acquires the look of an insomniac,
of an addict deprived of his drugs.
perhaps the breeze brings her perfume from yonder,
perhaps the moon reflects her beautiful face,
perhaps the mirror has captured her inside,
or perhaps the raindrops bring her touch.
frozen beneath the stars he lies,
the impatient lover searching her eyes,
praying for miracles and angels,
dying for the warmth of her hug.
She sits at the window every night,
smiling at the thought of her beloved.
Missing his loving arms wrapped around,
wanting badly the love they had found.
Dying to see the look in his eyes,
the ocean of love bereft of lies.
Touching the mirror as if it might take her away,
to the world afar where he was forced to stay.
Both walk in loneliness searching for the grasp,
which calmed their nerves and soothed their heart.
Believing that late night talks with closed eyes,
might bring them together over thousands of miles.
Trusting for real every animated kiss or smile,
they find their paradise in the darkness, even though for a while.
Come sunlight, the pretenses of the dark break,
the hearts ache at the thought of another day.
Yet they wait, knowing not when they will gaze at the stars together,
yet waiting, waiting for their dear life.