wait

through my window, I hear the wind blow.

it opens to streets of swift feet;

I again go nowhere.

I see the cars progress at haste,

passing prams pushed; progressing

up the path of life.

fix my gaze on old Mary

who shuffles by thinking;

John not here now.

I shift my weary eyes,

look in the mirror

and see lines.

not so long to go,

now is ever;

I slow,

feeling the cold

coming to

me.

x

About Lindsay Craik

Writer & Poet Poetry, plays and short stories
This entry was posted in Flash, Poem and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s