I have been waiting,
Waiting to catch a glimpse of the sun rise,
Waiting to feel the warmth of the sun,…
After many long nights,
Rushing in the wee hours of each morning,
Listening to Billy Currington’s People are crazy,
Picking sea shells on the way,
Scribbling words on the sand,
Words washed off, by the cold cold waves,
Erasing everything without wasting anytime,
Giving a clean gentle look,
Brightening with the daybreak,
But it was not the sun, not the sunrise I was waiting for.
An Experimental attempt to put thoughts in writing by Monica Ingudam.