Photo by Ben Guerin on Unsplash

October 24, 2019

Patience, where art thou?

Like a mailbox, people await you empty, and now.

No letter from her, or check to eat dinner.

A simple plan on hold, moving so bravely.

I’ll try better thoughts, the emotion’s degrading.

A mood’s meant for people to move.

…with all their heart and soon behoove.

A voice in mind with sound.

Understanding most people need it loud,

For our audience, we beg not to prowl,

But sound in sight influences every strike.

GoFundMe for the people, I must type.

On the other hand, a lonely writer who needs a touch.

Embracing words which come so tough…

But good comes with patience.

Another word for a plan, writing to finish it.

Slow as bamboo,

Growing so wait on it.


Born and raised in Portland, Oregon, Budd writes to encourage readers to explore the depths of their inner ocean, an unexplored self, because it's fun once you get through the emotional part... "The words we speak become our vehicle; what you read is how I digest them.” -Budd

One Comment on “Poetry In Waiting

  1. Pingback: Approaching The Day Through Morning Fog |

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