Why must I wait?
My only job involves
waiting, sitting, wondering
when it will arrive.
The white contraption scurries by
and contents are quickly dropped inside.
Then, I'm back to waiting.

Everything happens around me,
but I am never involved.
At least people don't care about what I look like on the outside
They know it's what's on the inside that counts.

As the leaves change and the snow falls,
I am the only thing that remains the same.
Patiently awaiting the arrival of those white
and occasionally brightly colored squares

But my day is made when that garage door opens
And the person emerges, carrying something for me.
My red flag is waved and then again here I am,
Waiting.