Saturday, July 14, 2012
Haven't finished any knitting so nothing to show.
Except this:
What is the weight?
What is the weight of quietly waiting?
How long are my hands to hold this strange thing?
Patience, a burden, anticipating
That for which I wait, the winds will not bring.
What is the cost of silently longing?
Disappointment relentlessly follows
My steps and turns, so easily wronging,
Never to have. Love hides in the shadows.
The cost is too dear; the weight is too great.
I must let go this ridiculous dream.
There are things to do, not just sit and wait
I refuse to give you my self-esteem.
You are a wonder but no more than I
To my self I grant the freedom to fly.
Labels: \, disappointment, poetry, sonnet
posted by Betty Ann at 8:09 AM | 
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