At the annual International Patience Festival,
held every other year (or so) ,
participants double-park on each other’s nerves;
wait in lines leading up to
unstaffed stations;
are notified appointments with a
chiropractor
have been rescheduled; ache; stand by
for further announcements;
get the runaround and put on hold;
pray, hope, digress; pass the
time;
consult obscure religious texts; sigh; check their
watches,
their messages;
ask each other if there’s been “any word”;
fall behind schedule; and,
and
believe people are basically good.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You take a word, like patience, and use it as a Christmas Tree. You artfully hang other words on it. The gives the word life and beauty. Thanks Again Tom