Waiting

Come and sit by the fire

On this waiting wooded stool;

Warm yourself awhile,

Feel the pulse of this room.

Let me purge myself of fears and pain,

By listening to all that you have to say,

Let the years we have lost yet gained,

Be in my hands today to stay.

And then we’ll stand by the window and gaze,

At the dawn creeping softly through nightly haze,

We’ll sense the lingering soft incense

And delight together in the experience.