365/Wait.

She went back to where cigarette buds were plentiful, but flowers still bloomed. 0304. Early in the morning, the fog covered bench was cold to touch. A year today. Heart warmth and still life portraits of business suits and ties, clickclack of heels. The world slows down, while cars zoom past racing to neverwhere. Whatifs and doubtful sweetsecrets whisper down my ears right into her heart. Coldwind freezes ever rainteardrop threatening to fall.

When I'm weak, You make me strong.

Sweetsurrender, oh beautiful One.

Voice stuck, nothing to say, throatclosed conversation. Dripdry standards for wanting, needing hating, loving, simply complexities.

She wants to learn to wait upon all things right and perfect, in Your time. Promises made, promises kept.