(no subject)
In the dark of night (waiting for day), beside a pine tree (waiting for the winged seeds to sprout), beneath the dim light post (waiting for a wintry field and a faun to appear), the wind’s whisper turning into a furious roar (waiting for him carry someone to me)
“Hello, miss.”
I turned to see a lady of porcelain, coral cheeked with pale lips. Her purple-flowered trousers and large gray overcoat added to her inexplicable air of oddity. “Waiting?”
I shook my head lying, “I don’t know why I’m here.”
“Sorry, my English isn’t well (Sorry, I don’t understand lies).”
So commenced an hour long game of charades.
Soundless words spilled from our finger tips as our elbows were the “ands” “buts” “yets” and “fors” connecting them together. Frantic motioning and waving acted as verbs, while eloquent sentences formed from our laughter.
The wind calmed from his rage. As he breathed a sigh, the leaves twirled and danced a little flurry.
The lady of porcelain pointed: They’re singing.
stifling,
the average person spends 5 years of their lifetime waiting