Wait

Not a measure of potatoes, sweets or fat. Nor apples, pears or bananas. A delivery is the fruit more often than not. That at a bus-stop would be much more pleasant. At a doctors more nerves would play but at least it's for a purpose. For summer it's long though never for naught.

Here it's a kaleidoscope of emotion. It's never certain one way or the other - the fear of an eternity on the fence. Time fails you. Has it been a year or ten? Turbulence knocks the clock hands off kilter, outcomes are hazy.

These rose-tinted specs are starting to hurt, I miss blues and greens! I would live in the past but I'll need to breathe in a second. Genuinely, I don't know if it works now, right now. Was sand ever stone? It's everywhere now, in every crack and crevasse.

Waiting...