The Waiting 

I am a writer
who wastes words
in thoughts that
cower in the corners 
of my mind.

A lifetime of longings,
reasons, solutions, and questions
lie dormant
on the stretch of a horizon
most will never see.

Moments mesmerize me mercilessly
as thoughts tumble and turn
into self-recrimination.

Inspiration, the writer's 
unreliable code word, wanders
in and out,
around and through,
never settling,
never creating,
always vanishing.

It leaves me cold
and alone,
wanting more,
realizing nothing.

It settles on my heart,
heavy and lost
in the vastness of
what might have been.

Judith DeChesere-Boyle 1987

Welcome to my blog. I wrote this poem many years ago, and it seems fitting to post it here and reflect on a time that fortunately is in the distant past.

After years of teaching at the secondary level, I can now dedicate my time to writing, to doing what I have longed to do exclusively for many years. I have two indie novels that are available on Amazon.com.