Nicer Things

by Barbara Lynn Terry

Sitting here waiting for her to return

I get bored for something to do

So I get out my paper and pen

And write about absolutely nothing.

My lines don’t rhyme

My mind is blank

As I watch the traffic go by

With a disinterested gaze.

I listen to music I can’t hear

Wondering when I can leave

To finally be able to

Finish what I had begun.

But I can’t even think

Because it is so boring

And the sound of the

Traffic is dulled in my head.

Then I look around

And she still is not here

My eyes begin to close

And I dream I am at the beach.

The soft sound of the waves

And people splashing each other

The sound of ‘I’ll beat you to the raft’

Makes a body wish to be them.

But wait! It isn’t the beach

Just the dull whisper of the traffic

That has lulled me to sleep

Making me dream of nicer things.