Standing on my front step
Leaning against the door frame
I wait with frozen hands for -
The post man.
The streets stray cat sits on
Number eighteen’s window ledge
Licking its cold body after
Last night’s supper of rodents.
Smoke rises from tall chimneys
Standing to attention in monotonous rows.
Cars drive down the street going
To work in the factories only to wait
In cold car parks for their owners return.
Today I am waiting for a letter,
Its journey across the country
Being unassumingly ordinary.
Minutes tick by as the world turns
I clench my fists then rub my hands.
The clock bends time slowly at first
As I wait and wait and wait.
Time slowly dripping off the wall clock
Eating into the day. Time marching on.
very very depressing moment i can totally feel da situation! nice i love dis.......
It seems to me that we spend our lives waiting, for one thing or another. Very well penned as always David.
I really love this and it's so true. We are a nation of waiters. And the post is always late.
Yeah it can seem like time stands still when your waiting for the post Good write BB : O)
I like the last lines of the poem about time. They are such a strong ending. Time is the stern benefactor of our days, you seem to be saying at the conclusion. Great stuff.
A nice poem waiting obviously it is time related /Sometime we enjoye the waiting though its boring sometime we wait for unwanted / for me waiting is disgusting/Time slowly dripping off the wall clock, Eating into the day. Time marching on. what a beautiful line then last but two and one perfection well penned
If no waiting in our life, what is there to enjoy. David wood..Nice poem
Yes, you are right we spend time in waiting but we do not waste time in most of the cases, as waiting is that abstract action while performing it we do so many things! ! !
Life is but a waiting game unfortunately but this guy does seem to capture the feeling right
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice poem, I enjoyed the mystery in this poem as you waiting for the postmen, nice poem.