Patience

by Anusha Badhwar

I am running out of patience,

slowly, steadily,

like fragrance,

oozing out of a bottle of perfume.

I am in a silo,

which feels hollow,

as my boat doesn't float,

on water which is shallow.

Numerous steps forward,

my dreams are cornered,

visibly diminished,

but not lacking in character.

Patience is pain,

I forget it's virtue,

the strength I need to regain,

to carry on again.

I am tired,

and yet inspired,

to do the things,

I desired.

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