I Wish to See Your Face

It is a wait that follows the hours
a place to call home
as surely as the breath comes
the birds an hour before dawn
the smell of food in the plaza
and music late at night from windowless houses,
it continues
and everyone waits.
I wish to see your face in dark eyes
surrounding me,
to momentarily fool myself into believing there is something more
than this patience with the passing
hours.