Five Years

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I sat at bus stops and waited,
Watching strangers, their ticking watches.
Do they have somewhere to be?
How long will they wait?
I have nowhere to be.

I asked a man with no jacket on,
How long he would wait.
It was December, there was snow on the ground.
He said until spring. Until the flowers blossom.

Red flowers will always blossom like blood stains.

I had a jacket on.

I looked around when it came to be Christmas,
When the advertisements blare from corner to corner
And the false cheer penetrates memories of your first school holidays
And I wondered how long we would wait.

I'd like to think I'd wait forever
If at the end it would mean something.

I waited five years,
The spider cracks ever forming like heated glass,
I waited, I waited, I waited.

The people at the bus stop
Stopped waiting. Their watches ran out of seconds, they had somewhere to be
And they left.

The man with no jacket on
Waited until the flowers bloomed, red and brilliant and horrible, and he stopped waiting after that.
The winters never seemed so cold
And the springs never seemed so disappointing
But he had stopped waiting.

I stopped waiting.
Five years and I stopped waiting.

But I'd always liked to think that I would wait forever.

I asked a child how long she would wait
And she told me
That she would wait forever.





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