I’m scared to look ahead,
Yet I fold my arms waiting.
Don’t you see I’m speaking,
It’s sad that you don’t hear me.
The peace that puts my mind to rest,
Lays with these words I share in hope;
Hope that builds while
My arms rest, folded, waiting.
Am I wrong? To wait in turn,
For my return, an end to patience?
It seems I’m the sorrow to blame,
If I could just let go I could find a way.
Is it really because I’m the one waiting,
With pent up words flowing down
Telling me I am the one who’s wrong?
Still I bow my head, fold my arms,
And sit motionless, waiting.
Those daunting words speak
With hollow tones in my mind’s cage,