Waiting

In a Houston airport departure lounge,

watching our grandsons as they fidget and bounce,

I see that a difference between youth and age

is that the young don’t yet know how to wait.

Waiting’s an art that comes only with time,

a skill that’s developed by standing in line

or sitting to watch for a thing to occur.

It grows toward perfection as people mature.

And this is one skill that will pay a reward;

for, if you are patient, while you’re being bored,

the amazing and useful may come into mind.

In veteran poets, this skill’s well refined.

Copyright ©2018, Paul H. Harder II

This poem is licensed under a Creative Commons BY-NC-ND 4.0 License.