Wait a while. The mind's confusion and slow steps May quicken: when the sun comes out from hiding And weariness itself wearily walks itself away.
Then, sometimes, in the silence of the stars I can hear your voice. I can hear and taste and see The years that brought me to this misery. Sometimes, when familiar streets come my way Or I come to them, anyway What I really am trying to say
Sometimes, the softness of those instants Comes back to me: the intent, the ideas The emotions and the inspiration That still remain with me. If you had been, Sometimes, near me
Things would have been different. These unfamiliar conceptions of destiny That life brought to my door would have dissolved Like the morning mist: sunshine-kissed.
I, in this sometimes moody musing, ask you to listen to this
