Waiting

the waves the waves come crashing yon

while all I do is sit and fret

and it is hours til the dawn

my life is past and I’m not gone

another morn, another sunset

the waves the waves still crashing yon

Seems I linger here on death’s lawn

he hasn’t invited me inside yet

but it is hours till the dawn

I’ve nought left of guile or brawn

like an empty rental still unlet

the waves the waves are crashing yon

the wood is stacked, the logs all sawn

I’ve tidied up and I’m all set

though it is hours till the dawn

I wish I would not linger on

for death these days is not a threat

the waves the waves come crashing yon

and it is hours til the dawn

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2 Comments

  1. xmelaniex7 said,

    October 29, 2015 at 6:21 am

    Is “death” a metaphor? What or who are you waiting for? Very powerful.

  2. witchyluck said,

    November 18, 2015 at 12:54 pm

    for me death would be a metaphor. I was however writing from the possible point of view of some elderly persons. Sometimes you run across someone who is ready to go but lingers. My Aunt recently died. She was like that.


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