Waiting

Even though moving has been my priority and I really cannot think straight this week, I feel like many of my recent poems have been about love. Mostly lost love. Enjoy !!

Waiting for his love that he once lost. The boy on the rock knew his only cause. He would wait for her return, whether she knew or not. He would sit and wait on that giant rock. The wind would blow, the rocks drift in the sand. The boy would never be happy unless he held her pretty hand. No one in the distance. No one on the horizon. Waiting for his love, it would be real quiet.