Waiting by W.A.Adams 

                                                  I heard the wild bird sing last night

                                                       and he called for me to follow

                                                   But I could not make the choice

                                                       tired of waiting

                                                   He flew off down the hollow.

                                                  And I knew the path he flew

                                                     over wild stream and hill

                                                 But I could not make the choice

                                                      and I am waiting still

About thelastminstrel

Carpenter, very minor poet and writer, history buff, frustrated prospector, singer, guitar player [I'm still trying to convince the guitar that I'm not going to hurt it] the most eclectic reader I know, second born of four brothers, father of two sons,-------

Posted on December 30, 2010, in Rymes. Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. I like the bird flying away tired of the waiting. Heaven only knows how much of real life is lost because talented, capable, men do not dare to take the first.

    Much insight here


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