Waiting… By Jasen Sousa
Waiting…
Every morning at 6:35 A.M.
there is a woman who waits,
sits like a statue
with the same expression
on her face.
Extremely attractive, but yet
distracted.
Head turned to the side, she stares
knowing what she is waiting for
may never appear.
So still, so silent,
it doesn’t look like she breaths in air.
Trees keep her company, leaves change
from orange to red, to yellow,
to branches that are bare.
Birds chirp, bees buzz,
this woman doesn’t put up an umbrella
in the rain.
Snow plows growl, shovels scrape the pavement,
from those same trees
icicles hang, as
she continues to wait
for a moment that never came.
She keeps her ankles with no socks
and her fingers with no rings
crossed, her palms press down
on a mysterious brown box.
People sit down next to her,
she doesn’t acknowledge them,
she never talks.
The lonely lady sits on the bench
and continues to linger,
her brown hair blows in the wind
and on this little brown box
she gently taps her right index finger.
Patient,
contemplating,
waiting…
Taken From
Selected Poems of Jasen Sousa
17-24
©
Comprised of works from:
Life, Weather (First Collection of Poems Written At Age 17) (Not In College)
A Thought and A Tear for Every Day of The Year: A Poetic Diary (Written Between ages 18-19) (Stint at Suffolk University)
Close Your Eyes and Dream With Me (Written During Early Twenties) (Bay State College)
Almost Forever (Written During Early Twenties) (Bay State College)
A Mosaic of My Mind (Written at Age 24) (Beginning Emerson College)
Every morning at 6:35 A.M.
there is a woman who waits,
sits like a statue
with the same expression
on her face.
Extremely attractive, but yet
distracted.
Head turned to the side, she stares
knowing what she is waiting for
may never appear.
So still, so silent,
it doesn’t look like she breaths in air.
Trees keep her company, leaves change
from orange to red, to yellow,
to branches that are bare.
Birds chirp, bees buzz,
this woman doesn’t put up an umbrella
in the rain.
Snow plows growl, shovels scrape the pavement,
from those same trees
icicles hang, as
she continues to wait
for a moment that never came.
She keeps her ankles with no socks
and her fingers with no rings
crossed, her palms press down
on a mysterious brown box.
People sit down next to her,
she doesn’t acknowledge them,
she never talks.
The lonely lady sits on the bench
and continues to linger,
her brown hair blows in the wind
and on this little brown box
she gently taps her right index finger.
Patient,
contemplating,
waiting…
Taken From
Selected Poems of Jasen Sousa
17-24
©
Comprised of works from:
Life, Weather (First Collection of Poems Written At Age 17) (Not In College)
A Thought and A Tear for Every Day of The Year: A Poetic Diary (Written Between ages 18-19) (Stint at Suffolk University)
Close Your Eyes and Dream With Me (Written During Early Twenties) (Bay State College)
Almost Forever (Written During Early Twenties) (Bay State College)
A Mosaic of My Mind (Written at Age 24) (Beginning Emerson College)