Poem : Waiting

They say time is a funny thing
But I guess it would depended on who’s keeping it
When your waiting for a flower from Eden to bloom
Or for moments of memories to turn
To days of good lives lived without worry
Without fear
The clock hands crawl to what seems
Like the speed of a standstill
And that’s not funny at all
It’s the small things that sustain me
Yes the small things are what I hold on to
Like a button
Like a stone
Like a bookmark
Like a photo
Like a coin
Things that are meaningless to most
But priceless to me
Held in a box like Jem and Scout’s box of treasures
But mine was not found in a tree
Nor from a blond neighbor named Boo
Not even from a book about killing a bird
For mine is not fiction
It can be held in my hand
Looked at and remind me the good times of the past were real
This is what gets me through as I’m waiting
Waiting for the tides to come in
Without the undertow of constant erosion
Eating away at my soul
Without wave, after wave, of circumstance cutting me down
Pounding the walls that surround me
Yes, I can’t find the humor in the tick tocks of time
But one day my smile will have no end
Then the clock will move faster than ever
For I will never want it to stop