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Waiting
May 19, 2011
I am fifteen,
and all I can do is watch.
Watch as every car zooms by
my hands gripping the bench,
my head throbbing as if hit with a mallet.
Where are you?
Waiting.
The smell of smoke pokes at my senses.
Why does this man smoke?
Can't a person die of that?
Can I die?
I stand and begin to pace around.
Where are you?
My heart pounding against my ribs,
a heart attack?
Car pulling up, my breathing paused.
Window rolled down, a face appears
and oh, so familiar.
Entering the shady vehicle I speak,
"Where were you?"
© Mariam S., Schaumburg, IL
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