Waiting in the Line

I’m Waiting in A Tiresome Line
Looking down at my shoes
with their fine lace of cool design
(Which are not actually mine, but that’s a matter of another story)
While at the same time
A young and no-doubt-sweet-for-his-mother child
Dressed in cute green overalls,
A cruel spear in his right hand, which I hear is tenderly called ‘magic wand’,
Takes a bite into a sandwich much relished,
Mumbling crumbs and vegetable pieces through
His tirelessly prattling mouth.
A moment later, crumbs and spit are on my shiny shoes.
Trying to wipe them away tangles the mixture deeper in the lace
(not mine, remember?)
On which I decide to chase
The poor mother to a bitter end for why she didn’t mind her beast.

Looking at her face,
Takes my anger off the messy trace.
And I wave off her distressed question if she should pay
For cleaning of the lace,
As I continue waiting in the line
So fine.

(c) 2020 soulmary

Written for the Sunday Whirl #444. There are some great pieces shared there, check them out.

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3 replies on “Waiting in the Line”

  1. Old Egg says:

    I loved the picture you painted with your words getting us to feel sorry for her and her wayward child.

  2. kaykuala h says:

    KIds can well cause distress. But it is a caring mind coupled with maturity who is always ready to forgive makes life
    more interesting and fulfilling. Anger can easily step aside!

    Hank

  3. Sara McNulty says:

    By the time you caught up with the mother, you had to be thinking, glad it’s not my kid!
    I really enjoyed this.

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