© Ramzi Albert Rihani
Sprinkles of time pushing through
To meet in a day, month or year
Everything comes to a pause
And breaks the promise that was so near
Colors of spring kindle the sun
Petals of flower cover the grass
And the man is still waiting
Fearing for the moments to pass
Days elope with water in between
Brushing the ocean’s shore
No one to see and no one to feel
As if we were in a war
The wind caresses her face
On Sunday when she goes to mass
And the man is still waiting
Fearing for the moments to pass
People engrave their marks
In praise of her beauty and things
Not worrying about revelations
As if in the company of kings
Daring bums approach her with grace
The troubadour polishes his trumpet’s brass
And the man is still waiting
Fearing for the moments to pass
Nights fall to the ground
The days quickly arise
Empty streets, cathedrals and bars
And a walk in the park in disguise
An eerie breeze looms over
With heavy, steady feeling, alas,
And the man is still waiting
Fearing for the moments to pass
The book says they will meet
Wishfully before a year
Whether here, there, or anywhere
Be it in a very far place or near
The story will be revealed and told
In a golden cloth of world class
And the man is still waiting
Fearing for the moments to pass