Waiting

Standing on my front step Leaning against the door frame I wait with frozen hands for - The post man. The streets stray cat sits on Number eighteen’s window ledge Licking its cold body after Last night’s supper of rodents. Smoke rises from tall chimneys Standing to attention in monotonous rows. Cars drive down the street going To work in the factories only to wait In cold car parks for their owners return. Today I am waiting for a letter, Its journey across the country Being unassumingly ordinary. Minutes tick by as the world turns I clench my fists then rub my hands. The clock bends time slowly at first As I wait and wait and wait. Time slowly dripping off the wall clock Eating into the day. Time marching on.