I’ll be waiting my friend, at the street corner pub.
Waiting for happy hours to end. Waiting for the waiter to Take the last orders.
I’ll be waiting for
My glass of wine to Concoct the image of you At my browned nicotined lips.
I’ll be waiting at the railway station for the
Last suburban train That ferries worn out salesmen to middle aged wives and Bug-ridden beds.
I’ll be waiting in front of the mirror
For wrinkles to appear At the corners of my eyes And dried up mouth.
I’ll wait at my sleepless balcony
For a reddish orange dawn While you’ll sleep beside your Ragged, time-worn woman In your plush three-bedroom flat.
I’ll wait through the hackneyed years
For a peaceful soundless death – That will merit a verbose obituary In the highest selling newspaper At some cost.
I’ll be waiting my dear friend
In memory of that moment of truth When you and I were united In a cheap hotel room –
Hoping and waiting, for levitation.
Special feelings on Peace Honest poems on Relationship Communicative poems relating to Separation
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