Crawl

by January 18, 2015 0 comments

I will wait for summer!
For grass to grow along the path
To make soft my crawl
Lessen the dust in my mouth,
Pain in my legs, rain drowning my voice.

I will wait for the sun to make it pleasant
So I can whistle and stand high
Pretending flowers heard no cry
Or saw the pain that stung my eyes.

I have borne the cold of being alone
Longed for the perfume you brought to my life
Whisper your name at the lonely end of night.

I will wait for summer to make things right.

© 2014

editors note:

Waiting to be making, a wrong to put right. (Read another fine poem from Alan on his page; about another waiter – check it out.) – mh

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