Waiting For You
Even though in my heart, I’ve whispered it over and over to see if at last you’d answer.
You’re taking your time. That’s if there is a time. For you and me. My family and friends seem to know something I don’t and they keep telling me to get ready. My doctor wonders why I don’t know yet, and tells me I should make a choice soon because the clock is ticking.
It’s all going by so fast, and moving so slowly at the same time that it’s hard to pick just one point of view.
Some days I think I can make the right choice about us. Other days, for days on end, I don’t know that there is a choice. It may all be predetermined and not up to me at all.
Maybe there’s a reason I haven’t been on treatment for the past two years. Isn’t that what they say? Let the medicine fade from your system for at least three months before before you start trying?
But I’m in the middle of getting a six-pack and finishing my novel and moving to Sparta. Won’t those things get in the way?
I don’t have enough money or enough space and hardly enough time. Yet.
I’m waiting until you decide, that it’s time to tell me that you’ll come.
Or not come.
I’m Listening. Praying. Waiting.