Poetry and Prose


There they sat in the sunlight and waited.
For the other to make a move,
But neither could find the right word to say
To make this moment a memory.
With high hopes and minds,
Eager to leave behind
That boundary of friendship and other.
They waited.

For someone just to speak,
And take away that awkward icky feeling.
That sick building inside their stomachs
from the butterflies fluttering in anticipation.
They waited.

If one would just take the time to open up,
And lay the cards in an appealing arrangement.
That some would find appalling,
But others see as a statement of character and class.
But neither would have the nerve to ask,
If the other thought the same.
In hopes that it would just happen,
They waited.

They waited so long that day became night,
And all that was left was streetlamp and starlight.
They each stared at the stars in attempts to envision,
Another world or destination.
In which the restless agitation was
Merely a figment of someone else’s mind.
With time running out and eyes closing fast,
They sigh with regret all the things
They meant to say.

If only someone would speak,
Just one syllable to break the silence
Screaming intensity and heat from the chemicals
Combining in secret.
With interests fading almost instantly
Sleep became the only mood.
And all the thoughts of each other
drifted into dreams as each held the other.

The sun rose with morning,
and in the midst of mist and fog,
The two could be seen blue and cold.
Both so bold to bare the cold December air.
They waited in silence all day and night.
Only to die without setting things right.

-D.A. Baker


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