To Whoever Waits Poem by Michael Timothy Rose

Like a rainbow
Who waits for sun,

He also waits
For bright eyes
Of light
To gaze upon him.

Like a frost
Who waits for temperatures to fall,

He too waits
For cold hands to know him
Like a mist from the mouth
Which blows back against his face,
Coupling his left cheek, and she smiles,
Formlessly,
The only warmth he has ever known
Besides the sun.

He waits
In mists in high altitudes
Awaiting contexts
To bring him life,
To bring him mobility
Or sight.

He waits
Like a lover;
He feels
Unknown
To himself.