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Every day I wait and get a little closer still;

Hoping that the storm will pass (though I'm not sure it will).


I cannot help but think of everything I've left behind

To search for something I'm not even sure is worth the find.


My tired eyes gaze longingly; these windows to the soul-

Reflect a place inside of me that's not completely whole.


I'll keep it safely locked away, and maybe 'lose' the key

And dream that one day things will be the way they used to be.


I'll smile (away the sadness), and I'll work hard (to pretend)

That things will be alright until I find my home again.