Waiting

Everyday I wait. I wait for the next day to come, for the next
sunrise to give me the warmth I desire, that I crave. I wait in
silence. Everyday I wait. I wait in silence watching the phone to make
some movement, some noise, to say that somebody else is living and is
thinking about me. I wait for the trembling vibration of the silver
phone as it makes a beautiful rattle on the hard surface of the table.
Everyday I wait. He waits for her. She waits for him. There is beauty
in the waiting. There is art in the waiting.