Waiting On a Fool
a concrete heart waiting in ebony night
on winged-flight, softening in calm's dreamy thought.
One grain of sand becomes a glistening pearl,
over the years, an aging restlessness wrought
in moonlit tides and cyclic wave-drenched hours.
Harsh winds have blown smooth and soft breezes cool.
Then across hands of time, shades of dawn unfurl,
waiting until the sun sets on a fool.
He who loves with fury, unabandoned.
The man who names his own waking despair.
The one called a fool, a true dying breed.
He waits for beauty and passion without care.
One glistening pearl waiting amongst grains of sand.
An artist's gem uncovered from the hardened land.
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2012
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