Days go by. Weeks fall by the wayside. All in all it's just the world turning, as we blithely move about upon it.
I yearn for some quietude. Sometimes I stand on the deck at the back of the house at three in the morning, just before the earliest birds have begun to sing, and I absorb the pre-dawn quiet as if it's a precious commodity.
The weekends are never long enough, and my shift at work always seems to crawl along at a slug's pace. Sometimes my only desire is to lie entwined with my loved one, as the afternoon rain slides down the window pane.