And Still I Wait…
It has occurred to me that I’m waiting
To die. Not by my own hand, of course, but
I never thought about what I would have
Accomplished in my life by now, but in
My mid-sixties all of a sudden I have
Perspective that doesn’t understand the lack
Of forward thinking of my youth.
I was too preoccupied with living then.
Somehow that quest has left me. All I
Do now is wait — for everything.
I wait for my husband to finish work so we
I wait for my children to leave
So that they can live independent lives, but
I don’t really mind if they stay.
I wait for the house to get clean, but I never
Take initiative. I’m pretty lazy.
I wait for the day when I will be thin again
And look nice in my clothes.
I wait for inspiration.
I wait for my poetry book to be published.
I wait for the end of the day when we all sit
Together and watch the telly.
I wait for vacation. But when it comes, it’s with
Relatives and that is no vacation.
I wait for dinner to get cooked so I don’t have
To come up with an idea of my own.
I wait for our rooms to be de-cluttered while
Daily they gets more so.
I wait for people to be interested in me. I know
I can contribute something, if only they would ask.
I wait for my neighbors to be more tolerant and take
Down the damned flag about taking the country back
And remember to be tolerant.
I wait for people to call me back, return my emails, get
The issue settled and over with so I can move on.
I wait to be more organized.
I wait to be a better writer.
I wait to be valuable to society.
I wait to be more mentally agile.
I wait to be more physically fit.
I wait to be a better artist.
I wait to be more interesting.
I wait for people to be more kind to each other.
I wait for cool days with a bit of cloud so I can go out.
I wait to stop daydreaming and live.
I wait for more time.
I wait for more.
I wait, wait, wait, and wait.