Why must it be me who sits back and Waits?
I wait for him and it's like he's always late.
There is never enough time just for us.
When it is my time, it's always rushed.
I am always so lonely, here by myself,
For when he's gone, my love's put on a shelf.
There is nothing to be happy about, in this life of mine,
And nothing to do but sit and waist time.
Waiting is something that's very hard to do,
You don't know how it feels unless it happens to you.
But some aren't stupid enough to just sit and wait
I guess that's just me, waiting, however many years it takes.
Love doesn't make waiting any easier to bear,
But knowing, between us, there is just something there.
I wonder, does he think I'll wait my whole life away?
The answer is yes, he'll come to me someday.

 

© Kristin E. Porter
2007