I have reworked the poem I posted last night. I think it’s better than it was. Let me know if you agree.
Waiting
When I’m alone, I listen to water.
My brother sleeps and my dog
sleeps but I am awake.
The moon is full, and the sky
is crossed by sleeping jets.
I remember I am loved.
Time is running out so
I sit on the bed, waiting.
Time will come for me.
It will not forget me, leave me.
It waits behind the door until
I arrive. It sleeps in the sink.
Tick-tock, it drips all night.
Time hides in shadows
through the dappled afternoon,
sleeps and stretches like a cat.
I smell it in exhaust,
in fruit cut yesterday,
in my shampoo.
I wait by myself for time to emerge
from my dusty luggage, to appear
in folded sheets, to speak among
long blades of exhausted grass.
Waiting by J. Kyle Kimberlin is licensed
under a Creative Commons Attribution-
NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Metaphor 
Thanks, Joseph. I see what you mean about the opening. When I wrote this in 2004, I liked the repetition of the the word alone through the piece. It was deliberate and served a tonal purpose. But 7 years later, it bugged me. But I think there's a compromise for fluidity to be made. I'm going to revisit it.
Yes, it has some streamlining in that some of the repeated words have been edited. I prefer the original opening:"When I'm alone, I listen to water.My brother sleeps.My dog sleeps. I am alone."There is something in this pacing that sets it up, slows me down for what follows. I saved both versions in my Kimberlin file, so thanks for reposting it. I remembered it from last year. 🙂