Sound of Waiting

In the dead of night, water’s steady drips,

counting away the moments, as stillness grips.

Each drop is a second, echoing clear,

a reminder of time, all too dear.

Pooling water on surfaces stained,

reflects all the dreams that have waxed and waned.

In silence, it beats like a heart that won’t cease,

a rhythm of waiting, a longing for peace.