Quality timing standing alone, awaiting someone to begin
growing closer.
Standing in lines of resentment, broken hearts held in
prayerful hands, so many moments spent in dread.
Afraid no one will show up, crying and praying that it
will not be so.
Walking towards the end of night pushing an empty baby
stroller.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem