Narrative Symmetry

Unknown Photographer

Night falls

with orchestral precision.

We sit in the shadows, listening

to the rain outside our window

crash for a distant audience.

And you say, like you have,

so many times before,

Waiting is beautiful.

Is that not so?

But that is your story.

I have my own:

Awake at night,

my fingers tangled

inside my hair,

I wait for you.

Time slices

my longing into

a thousand fragments.

I save them all.