Wednesday, January 12, 2011

The waiting game



She's waiting.
For time to pass, for things to change.
For the tides to come in and abate over and again,
enough to make it right.
Tolerable.
She stands, sits, leans and lies.
Waiting.
For a day when it feels, sounds and moves right.
She's not too sure what it is,
but thinks she'll know when it's here.
Maybe the sky will change,
or the heart will beat differently.
Then it can finally all start.
Again.

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