Waiting (Day 711)

Outside, she is talking to a neighbor 

she knows. Inside, amidst the hums

and clicks and comfortable sounds 

of an old house settling, he waits. 

Often, he waits. He waits 

for hair, he waits for lips, he waits 

for dinner, for the end 

of a song in the driveway 

after a long day, he waits for his life, 

ticking away like that mantel clock 

she’s so fond of, saying tomorrow, 

or next year, or, more recently: 

some day I will… And, while he waits, 

she is outside, talking to a neighbor

she knows.

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Juan Gris, Man in a café (1912), 

oil on canvas, via Wikimedia Commons