S.H. Zwanetz

Your love whispers to me at night
as the quiet bleeds throughout the house.
"Someday," it calls out to me, "someday."
Promises of never being able to live without me,
rage throughout my mind in disappointing highs and lows.
Still hoping some truth lies beneath the tattered image I sit rocking
Late at night;
To and fro, to and fro.
Still hoping for the return of you,
Praying for the return of me!