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Patience
by
Rusty Broadspear
Total disorder, disorientated, disarray,
Disappointment, depression, dismay.
Without plea or grounds to cause a fuss
He buries deeply, averse to discuss.
Firm, true, steadfast, rock solid roots
Of love; now saplings, bearing real fruits.
Temperature’s fell, exposed to the cold
But still shine with trust, as if put on hold.
He awaits confined, in love, resigned
To images enshrined within his mind.
Another chapter, book, venture waged
Unseen, unread, as a hand turns the page.
Holding hopes high, refusing to cry,
Patience his virtue, whilst wondering why.
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