every now and then, it grips me –
this feeling of wanderlust
of wanting.
perhaps these slow, silent winter nights awake within me
a yearning
my soul’s sighing
I wait for you –
(im)patiently
trusting you’ll come near
until then, I’ll rest here
safely amidst these blankets of night;
waiting for you
wherever you are
- 2009|12.10
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