In the calmest of storms, I sit and wait
My tiresome bones are destined to occupy this desk
For most days, I walk and crumble to a shatter
As today, in the emptiness of fulfillment, I steadily wait
I patiently blink my eyes at the red hand in the white circle on the wall
A clock is what it is
Patience is what I’ve been forced to have my whole life
My nerves are constantly stretched
My composure is pulled
And my composure is tugged
And my soul is ripped from my body
But it is not detached, only tempted by the flames
When the burning hand ticks some more…
After an eternity or three, the storm finally passes
Or rather, the muddy shovel meets the eye
Please, I’m still waiting
Time doesn’t wait for you
Time doesn’t wait for me
But I’m still waiting for time to bring me some sunshine
Diane
October 25, 2012 at 9:47 am
This was really lovely, poignant and sorrowful and deep – Diane
buckwheatsrisk
October 25, 2012 at 1:10 pm
i hope it does!
Anne
October 26, 2012 at 4:48 am
Great tension here – it makes me long for some kind of peace, or something!
Thomas
October 26, 2012 at 8:55 pm
As the old blues man used to sing: “The sun’s going to shine in my back door, someday.”