It’s so close. I can feel it in my heart and in my soul.
It’s so close. I can smell it like a baking cinnamon roll.
It’s so close. I can touch it with my outstretched fingertips.
It’s so close. I can taste it like hot coffee in my “sips.”
It’s so close. I can hear it walking up to my front door.
I won’t lose hope. It’s almost here. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four.
It’s so close. I can see it in the dark of a new moon.
It’s so close. I can sense it and believe it will be here soon.
It’s so close. I can touch it with my outstretched fingertips.
It’s so close. I can taste it like the chapstick on my lips.
It’s so close. I can feel it…. all the waiting, almost done.
I won’t lose hope. It is almost time. Six, five, four, three, two, one.
-Lisa Murphy Taylor, © 2024
www.poemeopathy.com
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