Time slows
In the days
Between Sundays
When I can see you,
Always from afar.
Time. Time.
Never the right time,
For what?
I know in my heart
The time is not right
For us.
If there is to be
An "us"
It is set
For some future time,
When I am ready,
When I can come to you
With some measure
Of confidence
That you will not be repelled
By my outer shell.
Perhaps "we" will never be;
I may never know.
For now,
Each Sunday
I know your friendly acquaintance
And count the days
'Til I see you again.