It smells like winter.
The hot tea is steaming in the mug
Peter got from Hong Kong on his last visit,
along with a pinkish scarf.
I am anxious to see him back on terra firma.
He called to say he’s lost his visa.
But rest easy!
It is three in the morning.
The hands of the mantel clock another sting in my anticipation.
He must be heading home.
I won’t fall into the arms of Morpheus tonight.
I will listen to some Nietzsche on the radio.
The actor begins the recitation.
His staccato words walking on a tight rope.
A musical piece to take a breather from my obsession.
I ‘ll close my eyes.
I won’t spend the night biting my nails,
waiting for that flight to arrive.
“Since I grew tired of the chase
And search, I learned to find;
And since the wind blows in my face
I sail with every wind”
(dedicated to Peter, my husband)
Check out the poem at http://bestnewpoems.com/patiently-yours-nietzsche/#.VoVEP69XerU under the pseudonym Via Dolorosa