A Year of Poems – Day 116

We wait for the final pin to drop,
for the tulips to grow and never stop
for summer to come and the snow to fall,
for the growing green and blanket white
to present their uniform symphony.
We wait for the fading note to sustain a chord.

We wait for the king to come on the same day,
that distinct enfranchisement to come to every soul.
We wait for individual freedom and group belonging
in a world that is global and distinct.
We’ll take the chef’s table a la carte.

We want the kitten and the sparrow.
We want crowns and pajamas,
and a grandfather clock without dust.
We want memory, life, and possibility
to only speak in the present tense,
and we’d like it all before the pin drops.

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