Searching . . .
Searching faces . . . looking for traces . . . and then,
your longing eyes meet mine – – – and hold . . .
This time? Should I?
Gathering rocks, watching fireworks . . . together?
Sharing smiles, thoughts, and simple dreams – together?
Tender caresses, leading to longing kisses, and still,
. . . together!
So near, growing so dear . . . but how long?
One day alone . . . or perhaps maybe two?
And then – one week turns into another, and still,
. . . ao near, so dear!
Shall I dare this time? Would you still be mine?
But now the phone lies still – long days, lonely nights.
Stumbling and fumbling . . . tears and fears.
But I’m still growing . . . never knowing just why!
Why care? need? desire? or even hope?
Was his name Tim . . . or maybe even Don?
But does any of it really matter now?
. . . isn’t he still gone?
Ethel Lewis – ’86