Poem: The Wait

When a mother waits for her son to come home after a long time (a tad too long for her)… her wait is an ache.

Poem: The Wait

Her silent phone gets a message
‘I am on my way’…
A single tick and a dead drop call
The feed quiet, inanimate…

Sounds of the elevator
Rappelling, opening, and shutting
Heart skips a step
The doorbell, a sonorous harbinger
Naughty buzzer yet to scream

Curtains rustle in the wanton breeze
Flying inwards in whiffy waves
Caressing her heart like a balm
Soothing the epochal ache
The soft message of hope in her wait

Her heartbeat matching
The clock’s tick tock
Pacing like a cat missing her kitten
It is time, just about time
Will it be now… or now?

For the double tick to appear
The elevator doors to open
The buzzer to scream in joy
The curtains to part wide
The clock to stop for a moment

The moment… for almost eternity
Finally arrives ending her wait
When she hears his voice
‘Amma, I am hungry’.
Her son is home at last.

~Ashok Subramanian © 2024

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