Waiting for a Lift

When you lose your voice
time spins slowly down
to drown in shallow ponds
dwindling in the sun.
  
Clouds row in lazy circles
round cold and icy toes
entrapped amid the mildew
whispering to ghosts.
  
Afterthoughts evolve in fog
where has the joy gone;
goose feathers fill the void
sleep soars overhead.

Taste the bitter pill of loss
the folding up of tents;
obstacles bar the staircase
back to where we met.

Recalling shining rainbows
renewing self and soul;
myself an humble hourglass
left stumbling uphill.

Impatiently, mornings pass
to afternoons, at last;
pale sunsets fade at twilight
starving for your next.