The Waiting

The tick of the clock
     slams like a hammer
     against Arianne’s eardrum.
Her eyes growing heavy
     as the itinerant sun slips
     towards the western horizon.
Endless reds, oranges and yellows
     spill from the heavens,
     onto the blue canvas sky
Great billowing cloud herds
     transiting the azure ocean are
     set ablaze against the fiery sunset.
Arianne sits by the open window,
     hypnotised by the meadow sages
     bending in the evening breeze.
Luminecent fireflies dance
     leaving fading trails of ghost strings
     amongst the old grey stones.
Whilst wisps of fairy dust swirl
     in the magical air, like lacy strands
     gilding her already flaxen hair.
She knows not who the traveller is,
     only that the journey ends
     at the old weathered gate.
How much longer must
     she wait before her
     limit hath been reached.
For as long as she has a heartbeat
     she has sworn to help
    her weary guest reach the finish.