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Tick Tock,
         Tick Tock.

I'm waiting.
The birds give concerts in the park,
and the wind,
rushing through the trees,
applauds them.



I'm waiting, again.
A large hall, bustling with people,
haphazard lines, snaking all around me.
I have no clue where to go,
but I know I'll have to wait in one of those queue's,
So I do.



A car stinking of leaking oil,
whining from old age and no maintenance,
stands in front of me.
It's nearly 40 degrees celsius,
and there's nothing on the radio.
I'm waiting,
for a change.



A wooden desk, cold to the touch.
Perspiration,
from a mix of anticipation and fear,
can be smelled in the room.
There he comes, throws the papers on my desk.
First page:
name
date
class.
OK, I got this.

"You can't be done yet. You can give in your exam in an hour."
So I do what I usually do.
I'm waiting.



The birds stopped singing,
the sun went down.
A lady is coming to tell me Mom's not coming.
But I don't know that yet,

I'm just waiting.
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Tick Tock, Tick Tock. I'm waiting. The birds give concerts

4 faves · May 1, 2014 12:21pm

FrankConnor

by

FrankConnor


tags

poem · waiting · mine · quote

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