Waiting Time    by  Hank Duchateau

the night is still
darkness closes tightly
around my body,
listening to the highway
I hear a truck change down
through its gears
starting to climb up the hill,
looking at the electric clock
with its large numbers
I see it is 3 am,
its red numbers challenge me
daring me to close my eyes,
no one is moving in the house,
I listen to the breathing
of my sleeping wife
knowing if I wish to move
I will have to wake her up,
she is my carer
who works hard to keep me alive
and as active as possible,
so I lay there waiting
for morning, for her,
for the day to come,
a dog barks in the distance
answered by some other dog
far away in the night,
a light rain starts to fall
and I listen to the loud drops
falling on the tin awning
over my bedroom window,
is this the start of a wet day
or just a shower passing over us,
how many will have missed
this sound of life
at 3 am,
I am still
waiting
for morning
my wife
my wheelchair

© Hank Duchateau