I overheard a gentle comment
while I waited for the next part
of my life to begin:
"Sometimes it is in the waiting."
My expectation increased as I hoped
for an explanation of "it." There was none.
What is "it?"
I could only guess.
A better life?
Romance?
A purer delight?
Then my fear took over.
What if I waited for "it" wrong?
Waiting for It
A Thread You Follow 
Wonderful ♥️
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Thank you!
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Thank you for your kind feedback and for passing the poem along…
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Your poem captures the uncertainty of waiting in such a relatable way. The shift from quiet reflection to doubt feels natural, and the open-endedness leaves a lasting impression.
I regularly review past and present poetry, and I’ve shared your poem here. I am looking forward to reading more of your work. Best, Adam
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