I wait with my face
Wondering if you will, in fact, ever show
All of these tears about to flow on downwards, wasting themselves, rolling all over my trembling hands
‘Til there remains but a tiny puddle where that same forlorn face wastes no real time – unlike yours – punching a sad and heartbroken reflection out of seemingly nothing
But, then, out of absolutely nowhere I get to see your silkened silhouette on the fair horizon, disguised future happiness by a momentary bout of sudden silence – tippy-toed
No-one need ever know just how far we have been forced to come
Over three-hundred multi-peaked mountain-tops, amidst mind-boggling, agonising degrees of unreason
A few more steps and you will be right back at my door, where our thirst first took hold

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