Waiting is for dogs,
anxiously whinning
and standing erect,
full attention and ears perked.
But people do it too.
I wait all the time.
I wait for many things:
I wait for my dreams,
I wait for my movie ticket,
I wait for my pasta to boil,
I wait for my man to come home,
I wait for the rain to stop,
I wait at the stoplight.
Then why is impatience so rampant in me,
when all I do is wait anyhow?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I can totally relate with this. Nicely written.