Waiting

Published on by bushboy

rock wall_named_tweed heads_jan 2018.jpg

He sits.

Alone.

His back against
the still warm
stones
of the outside wall.

He has been
here before,
knowing that
the stones of
the wall
can cool.

Pondering.
The thoughts
and memories
of his love
received.

Alive!
he cries
I am alive!
He feels the
warmth of the stones.

Do they beat
in time with
the heart within?

They are smooth,
these stones.
His hands,
his body,
his soul
have touched them
gradually wearing
the stones of
the wall smooth.

The warmth
of his love
has washed
over the wall.
He has been
inside.

But now he sits.

Alone.

Waiting. . . .

 

I wrote this almost ten years ago. I happened upon the rock wall recently and it made me think of this poem.

16 thoughts on “Waiting”

    1. The poem is in my computer folder of my poems and some poems are written in a book or on scraps of paper that I find every now and then.
      The stone wall isn’t all that old, perhaps 15 or 20 years. It is a retaining wall near a hospital

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