Patience

26 Oct

A chair sits

solitary,

its cushion and legs casting

a patient shadow in the space to its right.

 

Sitting.

 

Patience,

where feet do not rap the floor,

and legs do not grow restless,

and body cannot

shift

towards a more comfortable position.

 

But a tickle silently tremors its base,

growing, invisible,

waiting for tired legs to find themselves

near enough

to plunge into cushion

and quench two desires.

 

Sitting.

 

Legs inch by

bent at the knee, where a wobble is detected

if scrutinized,

shadow hunched,

pleading for momentary rest –

 

but a paper is due in an hour,

and time

cannot allow her to sit

for even just a moment.

 

 

A chair

 

continues

 

sitting.