Waiting II*
This is a game
we used to play
in childhood --
us
crying out
for our mother's
warm milk,
to be sterilized
for a change
of diapers, that perfect fit
that wouldn't fall
and trip us,
for quiet
to come, the hush
of a thousand melodies
lulling us to sleep,
for love.
This is a game
we used to play
in kindergarten --
us
with our lunch boxes
only to be taken away
by bullies who wait
by the trees, by the playground
for a mother's embrace.
us
with our bruised
knees, feelings
l a i d o u t
in the clinic where
a nurse will take away
the pain
with a swab and
a kiss.
This a game
we used to play
in school --
for friends
to flock around us
for people
to call us names
at midnight,
send us to detention if we don't
behave well enough
gives us marks
for performances
to make it
to the next level.
This is a game
we used to play
at work --
for people
to make us coffee,
for that gold watch,
pink slip,
that needed vacation,
for a break.
*****
Everyone knows this game:
kids waiting
for presents, toys
too expensive to be
bought
teenagers waiting
for that right age
to come, to be able to
drink, drive, gamble
parents waiting
for their children
to grow up, come home
before midnight
The lover
makes the same plea
The old
for their skin to age
For beauty
to pass into another life
Even books wait
to be read, food to be eaten
And the trees wait
for the changing
of seasons, as we wait
for the changing
of our souls.
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A/N: Just in case anybody is wondering why there is a II after Waiting and there is no first poem in this collection. There will be none as I am not publishing it (it's really cringy and to be honest I don't know where that collection went, probably in the garbage).
This second poem with the same title has no relation or it's not a continuation of the first and can be a stand-alone piece.
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