just for waiting

sad enough, it seems,
that even though
the heart relishes
the saunas of dreams,
that the season of hope
always ends in screams,
with the dawn of
the season of uncertainty:
the quiet of one soul,
bleeding out,
with a mere whimper or two:
never so bold,
as to shout,
just quietly staying
trapped inside a cage,
carefully built
just for waiting,
just for waiting.

March 14, 2009.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

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