Four months is too damned long;
I can barely wait another day.
Don’t persecute me for my impatience,
For I’ve already waited
What seems like an eternity,
Plus four months.
I dreamt of you last night,
Vivid and clear and full of reality.
I remembered thinking that time had sped past,
That finally you were with me,
In my arms.
Though I prepared myself for your leaving.
When I awoke you were already gone,
Realising we were only half way there,
And you were still far away
In your own warm bed,
Also alone and without me.
Missing me, dreaming me maybe,
Wishing I’d come home.
Four months and a life time is too damned long.
The waiting makes me sad.
Four months equals too many miles walked
To the power of one hundred sighs,
Before I reach your door and home.
Before I don’t have to miss your presence
In all its physical godlike splendour any longer.
God I miss you,
And tomorrow I’ll miss you even more.
Four months, a lifetime, and eternity
Is too damned long.
Four equals 2 to the power of one hundred and the rest
This is not patience,
This is not endurance,
Neither is a virtue.
This is a hiatus.
And when we, or god, or whatever stop hiatusing,
Then the waiting will be over.
Then my silence will stop.
Then Romeo and Juliet
Can become Rumba and Jazz duet.
Shakespeare is not an epitaph set in stone.
Stories can be rewritten.
And this one needs a new author.
Time we rewrote our version
And kick the tragedy back to the rebirth of cultured man;
Renaissance my ass.
Renaissance this Mo Fo Wo Sho!