With droplets pouring into a bucket on a rainy day

Inconsiderate as it overflows, yet another drop pours.

A gladiator bursting with rage, with a spear in hand

Building sheer power yet remains target less.


Like a marine at war, I hone my longing

Second by second and every second it grows.

So much so, that you shall feel the raw power

Of dormant love, bursting, on my first embrace.


Until that day, I ask only your patience

With remorse I toil, and toil lonely.

Building castles, I must seem laughable

For there is, but no one awaiting me.

This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to Awaiting

  1. Taylor says:

    some wet and lovely imagery,

    patience is important, thanks for sharing.

  2. I see some hopefulness,

    keep it up.

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