Poem: Pins and Needles

I sit on my hands
Stupid
Expectant
Flirt with disaster
New found glory
Around the next corner?

Is it hope
Or doubt
That scares me?

It’s pins and needles
Long minutes, hours
One long count that grows
Some may come and some may go
I have done what I can
And wait
For fate

What great reward
What bitter loss
Awaits for me
I embrace it
Headlong
On wings of faint hope
Light in darkness within
Is what will carry me
Either to the sun
Or to fall gracefully

©2014 James Takeo

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