A short poem about the consequences of losing patience and hope.
|Sitting in a hard grey chair,
An empty house, and
Waiting for the clouds to break,
To sift and shower snow.
Staring at a flickering screen,
No interest here now,
Bored with dry and dull routine,
And waiting for the snow.
Listen, listen for clouds to open,
But they must be
Frozen, still in time and place, and
Frozen, packed with snow.
Sighing, sinking, staring at
The ceiling, bare and
White and stark and cold,
And colder than a moonless night.
Slipping, sliding off to sleep,
A sleep restless, sleep
Hopeless, hope yet lost too soon!
Waiting through the afternoon,
Closed up in that dreary room,
Sleeping till the rising moon,
I'd missed the falling snow.