Tap. Of finger
Rapping on wood
Impatient and restless
Waiting.
Fidget uncomfortably
Shuffles feet
Looks at muddy school shoes
Still waiting
States at people who sit
On chairs too, hard backed
Engrossed in phones, but too
Waiting.
The hands of the clock goes round
And round, losing precious time
Both our time and its time
For even a clock must stop one day
Yet still waiting.
***
Ah hi guys.
This is a poem I wrote when waiting for the bus
Sorry if it sounds terribly out of point and rather random
I was just very bored
YOU ARE READING
Tears Of The Rose
PoesíaA. Ton. Of. Random. Poems. Just warning you. The poem that inspired the title of this book: Tears of the Rose A rose Is a prickly thing Armed with barbed thorns Stinging like thousands of merciless Bees that hover protectively Over their prize. Rose...
