Without Dew, Without You

I wake up every morning, thirsty, reaching for something that isn't there. Not water, not comfort, but you. The grass grows greener with dew, that the earth needs moisture to sustain life. I am parched earth waiting for rain, your rain, a field that knows what nourishment feels like but can't remember the last time it fell. I feel the hollowness of wanting what I can't have yet. But I am trusting that what I need will arrive in its own time. Without dew, the flowers still exist, they wait, holding onto the memory of moisture and the hope of it returning. Without you, I am still here, not blooming, but preparing to, keeping myself tender and open for the day you finally arrive and I can drink my fill.