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poetry by j matthew waters

it’s her turn to cry


waiting for the rain to stop
for the pocket phone to ring
waiting for the midnight train
taking me to promised land

you’ve been gone so long
I’ve forgotten how to find you
sitting on a depot bench
I watch the trains crawl by

waiting becomes cumbersome
patience a thing of the past
I walk away from the waiting
waving goodbye one last time




may two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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