When the Clock Moves So Slowly Before Seeing Them
Waiting for You: A Poem About the Endless Hours
The clock ticks slower as the hours drift by,
Anticipation rising as minutes feel like hours, why?
Every second stretches, like a pull on my heart,
Wondering what you’ll say, how we’ll start. 💭
My mind races ahead, while time stays still,
Counting the moments, waiting for the thrill. ⏳✨
In your presence, I know, the wait will be worth,
For the minutes that felt endless, lead to our moment of rebirth. 💖