Waiting

I sit here waiting.

The birds rise and tweet and the wind rustles the leaves on the trees.

I stare out my window and see mothers, children, dogs, postmen and men in uniform going to work

A fly lands on my leg, it’s arms twitch as it washes its face.

The fly has a purpose, he longs for food. He waits, he looks, he searches for that morsel of food.

I‘ve been waiting so long I’ve fogotten what I’m waiting for.

I’m going stale like a mouldy piece of bread. Not a loaf, I’m not as important as a loaf.

I’m a flimsy piece of bread that’s breaking apart.

I watch the sun cast it’s shadow across my room.

Day turns to night and

I still wait.

My mind longs for interaction,

pleads with me to go outside.

My body aches pleads for me to move but I have fused with my sofa we are one.

I refuse to move, I refuse to stop looking out the window.

He will come,

I will wait.