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Waiting For

 
Not a prince.
I prefer sincere over Charming.
daring is not so important,
but willingness to be is.
a boxloader, a guard, a poet–
that would be fine, just do what you
Love.

Your love for me–
not a princess, but
a shy jangling troubador–
as part of your life,
not the only thing
you must share me with the moonlight,
insisting upon freedom as I demand
Your embrace.

A distant speck on the ground.
from where I stand--
(my standards are not too high)
--what do you look like?
tall? short? male? female?
even from here, I imagine
Endless eyes I could stare into.

Your move.
the eye strain is killing me
the prince and the knight
and the man who wants to be
are boring me waiting for
a toss of the die
I will never make
Mr. Right has a girlfriend, and
so does Ms. Right
only you are left
you must be out there
Somewhere.

Your coming.
it may not be trumpeted, so pray
climb up quickly and wave my attention
no promises... regrets... or sighs
just truth and life
perpetuating with one addition
You.

 


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All original materials © 2003 R. Pickard