Slave to the the Wait

Why is it…

wait…waits until the last minute?

This above all…has been on my mind since the drought.

Afraid to ask…

the word, ‘HELP’

keeps creeping out.

Screaming silently,

‘Let me out!’

Wait…hurry up and wait.

Well, the humid air…waits for no one.

I say, again, again and, again.

Peppered storm clouds…in due time will satiate.

But, wait, maybe, they have arrive too late.

The rain is in my blood.

My blood is in the rain.

There is always…downtime, downfall to the pain.

Come down from your fence…

Put a halt to the salt in the waiting wounds.

Time wasted…will be upon us soon.

I guess we are all slave to the wait…

The waiting…until it is too late.


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