Waiting

I wait for the night to grow quiet;
the traffic, the people, the birds,
just listen to those roses,
squabbling at 2 a.m.
and that dahlia, is it snoring?

I wait for the world to grow quiet;
for the yawning voices in my head
to shut up,
still discussing yesterday or last week,
no this was definitely last year.

Perhaps if I lie still,
turn off the chatter
of muttering joints,
rapping heart and
searching eyes.

Perhaps when world and night and body
pause in the vacuum,
stars don’t dare to twinkle,
clouds are riveted to the sky,
the wind waits, holding its breath.

Perhaps in that hush,
if I lie still,
and the roses stop fighting,
I can hear you call my name.
I wait for love to grow quiet.