Trey Pearson Poet Cowboy Poetry

While I Wait

While I wait

While I wait, thoughts long hidden
that I thought I'd never see again
creep into the living room
playing themselves round and round
 a seemingly endless spin
pushing and tugging me in every which direction
Seeming friendly, At first..
following me while I ride
	raining down from the sky
miles upon miles of them,
section after section.

Their efforts, to make the most noise they can
and convince me within the minute, 
to take a second look at them,
and relive their brief existence.
Words from friends, 
people and places I'll never see again.
Some silly statement I made as a kid
that through slip or trick will lure me out 
into resentment and hold me all night in its grip. 
Arguably insignificant turmoil,
the traces of forgotten language now erased 
from the physical world. 

Yet by will, still stalk and circle like jackals
eyes wide staring though white holes
of night while the winds 
blow and roll off campfire coals.
Waiting patiently for a chance
to drag their prey away into the night and the cold.
And all they need to win, is acknowledgment.
To go from dormant to a swarm of hornets
in that space right behind my face
	...when they catch me alone

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