The weekend comes

Each morning my excitment grows, the pain of loneliness starts to die, joys of love seep deeper and deeper, it's only the middle of the week yet here I stand with nothing left to weep. I miss him so, yet no one knows, that my smile is the mask to the tears that fill my inside.

Each night that passes another tear filled night is gone, the light of the tunnel now within sight, my true love will be in my arms, this long road less traveled, this windy road so bare, I can hear the wind blowing his name as it draws near.