(untitled)
As I sit with nothing to do, I can't help but
think about you.
I'm a little lonely and a little tired.
But I'm comforted with the thought of being your child.
Sometimes it gets overwhelming,
I pace the floors of my mind trying to think of what to do.
I some how always take your hand and you bring me through.
It's a funny thing, patience.
Don't quite like it. I've learned to use it.
Comes to mind every time. Every time my soul gets restless, my
heart gets all a mess.
"Patience." You tell me.
"Patience for what?" I fight back.
"Patience, for I have been patient with you."
You always give back.
That's reason enough for me.
When I don't understand why you ask me to be quiet, I always try
to fight it.
That's the strange thing about this relationship.
I never give you the time of day, and when I need you,
I expect everything to work out my way.
You're always giving me one hundred and ten percent.
Wish I could say I was that decent.
So, when you ask for my patience and anything else for that
matter,
I will think on these things,
Instead of getting a little sadder.
For you, I wouldn't mind being a little lonely,
As long as I have you in my company.