Sleep comes to me as easily as rain drops falling on a childs lips. Seemingly impossible but eventually it will fall. And so did I. For your charms like a wind whistling past... or perhaps a Brooke running swiftly along lonely forests. And your eyes that shine like pretty little playthings, hiding behind the grey clouds. When rain falls and the bubbles of water drop over the childs awaiting face.

Such is the joy that comes to me each night. As I lay awake, in your dark wait. That is how I wait for you; and that is how I miss you... 

In that way and in every way, I wait and wait, every day...