Ahead/Behind

Lying in wait forever

Wait is likely the most deceitful of all words : it has an air about itself that people capitulate to especially, lovers.

Once in its grip it turns them into twitchy, agitated beings, though also at times, sanguine.

The pessimist's despair sooner than later; but the ones who choose to endure it’s treachery are said to be rewarded.

Rewarded? With what? I had once dared ask; Why with love of course! I was informed and advised to ensue.

Therefore, wait I did- days became months months, years. Life had become a tragi-comedy of sorts waiting had now become a game

Waiting for a knock Waiting for a call Waiting for a letter Waiting for a voice Waiting for a sign- Why, waiting sometimes for nothing at all.

I was told tall stories of love and sacrifice how one must wait for one’s love to arrive for waiting showed you truly sought for, waiting truly showed, you loved.

Then, on one particularly cold morning, a letter arrived announcing love’s arrival - I sprang in joy the wait was finally over!

Love arrived, as did the gratification of having waited this long they were right all along waiting was rightly an act of true love.

I celebrated love reveled day and night, did everything there was to value its presence to honour my penance.

Yet, sooner than later a desire took over – a new quest, a new longing a new bidding arose - I sought love, over again the wait, before I even knew began once again!

’tis true then, what I had alleged - wait is indeed the most deceitful of all words. It entices you with hope and beguiles you with anticipation, but all it brings along in the end is more of itself and trepidation