Where Is My Patience?
Patience is a virtue
Heart is racing
Foot is tapping,
Arms crossed
Time is lacking.
***
I detest being late
For any reason,
Waiting on my ride
Triggers my demons.
***
Glance at my watch
Minutes ticking by,
Stress is rising
Trying not to cry.
***
Patience my girl
Just a small wait,
Patience is gone
I’m going to be late.
***
Pacing the room
Checking the time,
Talking out loud
Voicing my mind.
***
Starting to believe
They’ll never arrive,
Did I book it wrong
Or should I drive?
***
Grabbed my keys
Heading out the door,
When they arrive
Hearing engines roar.
***
Rush to the door
Slip quickly inside,
Tell them to hurry
Drive, just drive.
***
Caught in traffic
No this is not true,
At a standstill
No way through.
***
Again checking time
Heart still racing,
Knees jumping
Patience chasing.
***
Settle my girl
We’re on the move,
Pull up to the front
My mood diffused.
***
Pay the driver
Evacuate the car,
Race in the door
Slightly late you are.
***
In the very end
A great night all told,
No consequence
Not in your control.
***
Thinking back
On this very night,
It’s not important
You’re late alright.
***
So learn this lesson
Patience is a virtue,
Anxiety unnecessary
Just stressed you.
***
With patience
You’d still be late,
You’d be calmer
Which is great.
***
No need for stress
When patience found,
No racing heart
Or nervous frown.
***
Remember this lesson
Next time you’re late,
No intense emotions
Just patiently wait.
*********************
If you liked my writing, please click on the small heart underneath, near my name. Or send me a tip and let me know you enjoyed it.
****
Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.
If you enjoy this piece, you may enjoy this one too.
Originally posted on Medium
About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.