i catch the clock
on the wall mocking
me with each incessant
tickety-tock
as its second hand
marches ever onward,
step by determined step.
and i do the mental
math to calculate
what time it must be
in that distant city
and imagine her walking
busy cobble-stoned streets
weaving her way
to some shop or cafe
or sitting with friends
and sipping a drink
while i wait ever faithful
for a call or text
that’s sure to never come.
