Waiting.

I never ask, when I’m alone,
“Does she love me?”
Always, in true serious tone,
“Do you love me?”

I never think of you as she,
For in my mind you’re always here,
My ‘magination’s company
That drinks life’s toast to you, my dear.

And now the day goes slowly on,
And now the rain does fall and fall.
My pen could write the coming dawn,
But real is real, and “Wait’ is all.

Imagination—Say! You’re done!
Oh, you, my you, do you love me?
Come fast, clear day, of rain have none!
My sun, arise, and light me free!

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