THE WAIT

(MY DEPICTION OF-UNLIMITED OPPORTUNITIES IN OUR HAND

 WAITING TO EXPLODE)       

The Wait

The wait has been long

The night thousand shades dark and stark

Patience plays hide and seek

Hope balances only on the strings of past

When faith ran its course, mistrust and deceit ate through the pages of unspoken trust

 Strings were severed, the crippled limb slashed, a prudent and sensible course.

Alas! Oh heart always a fool, easily duped, gropes for some pleasant route.

So the faded light flickers again, chopped limbs grow back, the concealed ache bounces back.

Memories creep and crawl, beckoning, sprinkling balm, soothing the hurt, projecting those beautiful times.

Inciting to hold post, churning out the dirt,

I rummage for some sane reason for the unprovoked backlash.

Optimism clings on to fragile strings, perhaps you might chance upon my lane

Hold my hands, smile at me, share a cup of tea,

 brief me through the pages, between the time your brows tuned wrinkled from shiny.

Listen with equal zest, share a laughter here, a tear there without any fear.

Your memories stand alone, alive and real, not even a whiff of your actual existence comes near.

I seek no repentance or apology, no compensations or atonements just a simple goodbye before I depart on that last voyage.

Just a wee drop of patience as I struggle to speak, to say I had long forgiven you, long since forgotten that anger.

 Love has been victorious, friendship strong and still in charge.