Till She Comes Again... Poem by Nestor David Armas

I no longer have a mission,
A patient without a condition;
My objective has been cancelled;
A river whose waters have been quelled;
I'm a traveller without a map,
An MC at the mike without a rap,
An engineer without a blueprint;
A runner who cannot sprint;
But at least I'm a picketer with persistence,
Living through others my existence;
I am here listlessly awaiting,
Her arrival time obliterating;
But she just left not hours ago,
So what I'll do I don't know;
Sift through tasks unscheduled,
Tend my garden find weeds un-pulled;
Take out the trash, wash the dishes,
Play magic eight ball and make a list of wishes;
Without her I run circles round and round,
A puppy without a collar tag waiting at the pound;
Till she comes again; leash in hand,
To lead me; like a lost sailor to land...

(11/11/2010)