New Time

New Time

New Time

A Poem by Thomas John Nudi

I sit opposite my window each day

waiting for you, like a bad movie,

as I mockingly draw inspiration, making

an analogy out of the bird who landed on

the tree limb, right next to my pane.



I sit, still and patience finds me somehow

as I keep myself from thinking how stupid

I must look sitting miles away, leaned on  

the window ledge. If it was raining I would

think of The Cat in the Hat and wait more.



I think of Koch's evidence of love, I scoff.  

When will you come back to me, I wonder.  

When I realize I haven't spoken in three days,

that my jaw has become content? I do not  

want, and it will not do. I cannot.



And here, I've sat and waited

and I could wait days more, I'm patient.




The Bell Tower

The Bell Tower