He sits there at that table, holding the number 37.
Listening to the caller, holler: 'twenty-nine! '
And he knows he must wait.
Hes watching tv, his favorite show is coming.
With the man selling, telling: 'you must buy this! '
And he knows he must wait.
He lies there with his eyes closed, wondering.
With the thoughts of dreaming, scheming: 'blackness'
And he knows he must wait.
And he waits for the moment that may come.
And he waits for the moment that may not.
Knowing all along that he has nothing else
Hoping all along that theres something else.
And he waits.
What are you waiting for?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem