Waiting: A Poem
Sitting on a park bench waiting for life to move again,
Hoping for some clarity on the problems I face,
Will I find the results I was hoping for?
Or will I die somewhere in the middle waiting,
Hope breathes here between the past and the future,
But every inhale and exhale is strained,
Left here stagnant because of inertia,
Or some force that desires me to sit here waiting for brighter days.