A knife makes its way
into the pocket of a boy
There’s trouble in the streets

I wait

A gun makes its way
into the knapsack of another boy
He’s headed for school

I wait

In a land far way
chemical weapons
obliterate a town

Yet again, I wait

©Vivian Zems

Izy at Real Toads asks us to write a poem about waiting, but not to tell her what we’re waiting for in the poem

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