Zywa The waiting days

Unbearably itching
are the days of waiting
for the wound to heal

Deliriously thin I dream
of precisely that one person
to be happy with

My reserves are running out
When will the wind turn?
It isn't bringing any rain

Will my patience come to an end
or will someone come instead
to stand still with me?

Is the waiting unlearning me
much too late the waiting
and shall I get extra time

to live?

Poem 1207
Amsterdam, 2017-03-13

Collection: Webgarden 
Keyword: Waiting 
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