Waiting

Sally’s latest words for me were GO, FREAKY and TREE. I wrote this poem remembering a time when I was 12. I’d been to an after-school music class and waved at my friends as they all got into cars and headed off for dinner. And then I waited — for what seemed like forever (but was probably only 5 minutes) — for my Mum to come and pick me up …

WAITING

It’s 6 o’clock.
On my own on the bench
I swing my legs,
I hum a bit
and start counting in my head.

When I get to 63
a car pulls into the car park.
At last!
I stand —
but it’s not our car.
I sit.

Behind me, a tree starts to whisper and rustle,
some freaky wind moves its branches.
Down here on the bench it’s as still as still.
I try to look — to the side, without turning my head,
is that something in the tree?

A car!
They’re here!
Let’s go!

© Rebecca Newman, 2015

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