My wondering eyes just won’t hold still A familiar face they do seek While butterflies in my stomach escape From the patient waiting of my feet I hold my breath as I think I see him But let it out in an angered swoosh Why is he always late I wonderd? My temper begins to push And as my patients’ wears to thin The clock ticks bye again He finally steps to the front of me As though time could now begin He glances at my frowning face And notes the red tint of my skin Then he smiles ever so pleasantly And his excuses then begin.
Wolfeona The Wise · Fri Sep 15, 2006 @ 01:23am · 0 Comments |