Hands in lap, as they should be
watching you talk to me
posture of fear drapes your shoulders
heavy like boulders;
waiting for my gavel to drop
not quite knowing the type of crop
my garden grows, but please know
a pedestal I will never tow.
Against the resistance
at my persistence
giving me a half smile, chin down
eyes full of questions, answered on some dawn.
Thinking of time, eyes locked
on some distant rhyme knocked
out just for you, hoping it will
be me, with my lips being sealed.
A bolt flashes through me
screaming, "MAKE YOUR MOVE DUMMY!"
thinking better of it, I move as if the clock
read yesterday when destiny made me flock
To You, in the first place.
