Poetry

Countdown, 24 (343.)

Potential connections sit in my inbox,
and I wait to build any bridges.
This has been my life for the
last, oh, three years or so.
Four years.
I just wait, and bide, and sit, and hide,
and I feel
that I’ve already written something
like this before.
Lines about biding and hiding,
endlessly patient,
too damn patient,
I need to take action
for once in my life.
Build the bridge.
Walk.
Across the bridge.
That’s right, cross the bridge.
Make contact.
Say hello, then
keep conversing.

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