Will the stars still be in the same position
if she told him how she feels?
Will the future be let out of the ocean?
Will the dust be swept from her mirror?
Before the boat arrives and takes him away
And the old man comes to read her all her mistakes
Questions bubbling inside
While she sits on the warm sand
Under the soft orange milk twilight
She looks over the horizon and asks
“Is it time already?”
How much longer can she wait?