you told me you'd come by 6:30
pick me up from this den of worries
but i'm sitting on a bench, waiting again
guess i'll go home next time then
you told me you'd pick me up by 7pm
you're working too hard, laughing loudly with friends
mine have gone home, wish i had too
now there's just me and a teacher or two
you told me you'd pick me up by 7-
no i'm not hoping anymore, and that's fine, y'know?
you've never forgotten me at least and so
i'll make do doing nothing on my own
that was my father picking me up late from school
sometimes i'd stay 'til 8 from the noon
i tend to go home instead, don't care if it's hopeless
danger lurks better but mundane keeps me checked
YOU ARE READING
i, you, & them
Poetryan anthology of poems poured from daily thoughts of just i, you, & them. heed the tags.
