Wasted Time
Afraid of making,
that first move.
Quietly with small talk,
without a sentence,
ever being spoken.
Bumping legs
beneath the table
or
rubbing shoulders,
with only sideways looks.
How awkward these times
can be.
If only we had spoken
of things we wanted,
without the fears,
of rejection.
How much wasted time,
could we have saved.
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