Twisting by and blindingly fast,

These hours taunt with sweet caress,

They remind of your haunting voice,

And still I play the game,

Waiting for a hint of you,

A whiff of your trembling scent,

Waifting by perhaps on a dream,

The sordid thoughts encounter me within,

And in the speck of spotted light,

I see your face and you're calling me,

You are a benign force drawing me ever-forward,

I will trudge and triumph through the snow,

And I will frolic and dawdle through the sunshine,

I will sit in this chair,

When my dreams have gone to rest,

And I will resume my game faithfully,

Will or won't you?

Only the hours,

Drifting by on cloudless nights,

And swimming in rainless clouds,

The hours will tell and conclude to me,

Where you are,

And where you've been