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Waiting

Rating: 2.9

My love will come
will fling open her arms and fold me in them,
will understand my fears, observe my changes.
In from the pouring dark, from the pitch night
without stopping to bang the taxi door
she’ll run upstairs through the decaying porch
burning with love and love’s happiness,
she’ll run dripping upstairs, she won’t knock,
will take my head in her hands,
and when she drops her overcoat on a chair,

it will slide to the floor in a blue heap.
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
M Asim Nehal 15 February 2016

Nice imagery and a great wait...Liked it,

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