The Weight Of Waiting Poem by Mary Champion

Time hangs heavy
while we wait for it to pass.
Each second stretches
interminably.

But nothing happens -
nothing changes -
except the anxious ache
wound tighter and tighter.

Will he? Won't she?
Was I good enough?
What do the tests reveal?
What was the outcome?

Even waiting for a bus
can be stressful
If we have a deadline
and it is running late.

Time plays tricks
with our senses.
Time on our hands
is a sluggish thing.

But there is never enough
to get everything done.