Waiting Games

When will you come and fetch me,
when will you take me away?
When will you come and rescue me,
when the blossoms fall in May?

Will you make me wait till June?
Will you make me suffer long?
I only know it is too soon,
before I’ve time to end my song.

But I’ve already suffered,
cradled fear for many years—
been gifted love and life,
but not enough to quell my tears.

But you’re calling me again
this time I fear you will not wait,
my days now just a waiting game,
mere time to face my fate.

© Ammie-oy 2010

At Evening

I talk to her at evening,
as the sun is slipping from the dimming sky.
I talk to her as the sun leaves a fast fading glow, the dusk gathers
and night shrouds the day.

I talk to her at evening when her words slide together,
slide and blur—
puffed out in last gasps of exhaustion…
sliding together, slurring, blurring.

I talk to her at evening and I can see the heavy haul of legs to waiting bed.
I can hear the heavy, slow movements in her voice,
the determined heave of body to bed…
energy expended in a last effort of will.
I talk to her at evening.

© Ammie-oy 2010