Forty-Eight Hours
Dreams falter as the stormy and dreary day,
Slowly ticks away,
And your presence slips through my hands,
Like noodles being drained in the sink,
And eventually there is nothing left,
Except for the macaroni memory of your smile,
Your laugh and actions,
In my racing heart
I am about to overflow with longing to hear,
Your laugh and to see you smile
And the only thing on my mind is,
Monday, for that is the day,
That I will see you again, finally,
After what was only forty eight hours,
But what seemed to take eternity to pass,
Through the gilded gates of time