"Poems are forever floating through my mind and if I don't catch them pin them to the page they are gone forever and what good is that?"
~ My journal (age 14)

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Waiting

Another crowded waiting room
more "important people"
taking their sweet time
as if Time were something
they could option and own

But they can not buy
the rights to Right Now

Right now there is thinking to be done
drifting daydreams to follow
deep breathing to attend to
sounds and sights to absorb

There is a Hollywood icon
sliding out of her matted frame
under flickering florescent lights
how long has she been here
butterfly wings pinned to paper

Unobserved by a dull eyed assistant
who discusses her next weekend plans
quietly into her bluetooth
even though it is only Monday

Her grey pants blending in
with the grey carpet squares
placed diagonally and cross grain
for some kind of visual interest
or perhaps to draw attention
away from the unsightly stains

How many hopes have been spilled
upon this waiting room floor
How many dreams laid down
like Yeats's coat to be tread upon
by polished shoes with shredded soles

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