Tourist

I traveled to your country by myself
And it was very hard to do,
without you
I hated everything I saw
the old man that sits by the river makes me sad now
I don't remember him so withered and his eyes being glassy and as he stared into the river he made me think of you 
so I walked a little further and look up

The sky was a horrible angle
not even the rain could whisper something subtle and hopeful to me

instead, everything bled into everything, bled into nothing 

So I spent my days walking 
hoping the moment would hit me,
a sliver of a second
when the sun would warm my face at just the right time, and music would make its way through streets and you would be here

And I'll keep coming and waiting for your kiss from the wind, your hand in mine as I carry on walking, past the old man by the river and this time I'll be next to you with my eyes closed.