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Poetry
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| Waiting | |
| By rilLie | ||||||||
| 23 October 2006 | ||||||||
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I did this while waiting at the hospital when my big sister was having her weekly therapy sessions... She slid while playing softball and whoosh! anyway.. my deriere hurts from sitting there for two hours straight.... enjoy. As silent as the bloodred sky, watching people pass on by, making stories in her mind, to occupy herself, to pass all the time. Watching the chaos run and then die, attentive to everything, even the fly, Making stories of people everyday whoever, of anyone who passes her way. Maybe that woman there's a pianist, who had to go to her local dentist. Maybe she had over-sized teeth. Maybe that's why her posture was stiff. Maybe that couple's love was forbidden. Maybe that's why they look so bedridden. Maybe the woman was a praying prostitute. Maybe the man loved playing the lute. Waiting, just waiting for something to happen letting her mind play, however forsaken. Never a sound, not a sniff nor a cry. Waiting, just waiting for her to die.
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