Patience

Patience is such a peculiar thing
it wraps around our fingers
like bundles of strings
and sits on our shoulders
lips pursed, whisperings
that taunt us and haunt us
until every second stings.

Patience gets us nowhere fast
but each slow step
leaves one to the past
and as we scuttle along
alone and outcast
we’ll stumble upon
the present at last.

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