I'm waiting for you still, is that wild?
I counted down from ten and then a hundred and then a thousand and ready or not here I am
Tip-toeing down hardwood halls with my back to the wall
Peeking an eye around corners ready to shout "boo!"
This house is too quiet now
I've learned to play the piano that used to make me music with scrolls we would place in its heart
I sit with my back to the front door and the dust still looks like glitter flurrying through the light
The clock unwinds and again I rise with the blush blooming across the sill
One hundred thousand to ready or not, and I am here, but where have you gone?