For whiles and wonders

 

For whiles and wonders, you can be mine. For days that translate into years, for all those times that never come. For hopes and dreams and a great big title in red and black letters. For points of pitiful convoy. For the uneven paving stones of the road. For dares. For enough fooling around. For ‘no we’re not in love again (although that doesn’t stop me from caring a great deal for you and waiting impatiently to see you again)’.

For the sun already low in the sky. For far away cities. For no track of beginnings and endings. For how the snow falls free. For belief, that keeps slipping down. For you, also holding a length of my rope.

For the drift of wonders. For the end of words.

For that being all.

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