Alive And Subtle Poem by Delilah Miller

When is that last glimmering ray of sunlight
shining in to illuminate that last corner?
When is that last piece that actually fits right
falling into place, the puzzle-joiner?

When is the last cloud leaving
the sky, so it's calm and blue?
When will that last needle stop weaving
to show a finished dress that's fresh and new?

When is the last dropp going to drip down
and make that splash to fill the puddle?
When will the last word come around
to make my poetry sweet, alive and subtle?