Impending

standing onflciff

Feet curl over the edge of the cliff,

close to flying
ready to soar,
heart of a drum.

Anticipation brews in my sinking stomach.

Time is a flutter:
the future is impending.

Success is sickly sweet
but love is my greatest accomplishment
so far.
The rest will come.
The fog will clear and I will soon see
the bottom, ready.

Jump.

Fingers and toes tingle with adrenaline
Stomach flipping, fear released.
Eyes sewn shut by apprehension – open.

Alive with freedom and choices.

I fly into the sun,
free to venture wherever
the wind may take me.

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Waiting

waiting

Waiting for the
train to arrive.

Page
waiting
to be turned.

A freshly
printed novel.

Waiting to be
desired by
wise eyes.

A canvas of white,
longing for colour.

Patches of fresh
white snow
unmarked
by nature.

Waiting for the
rain to fall.

A gathering of
clouds aiming
their sights
on the last
patch of blue.

Anticipation.

Waiting for the
lost to get found.

A flower in
bloom stops
to look at
the sky.

Waiting for the
future to arrive.