I wait for the thunderstorm.
I wait for the rain to sing, to echo off your skin into a song that only I know but thousands hear.
I wait for the lightning in your eyes, for an orange passion that flies by thousands but only into my hands. I wait to hold that passion live and lifeless.
I wait for you to swallow the thunder, to have thousands pass you by while only I breathe the life back into you.
I wait until I can break the sky- until I can make it cry and strike and shout for you, but not at you.
I wait until I know that I can be there for you if it happens to miss.
