Pyjama Hopes

Another evening,

another night

in pyjama hopes

waiting with bated breath

for the measured step

that will not come.

Which friend should she call this time?

Which bar?

These ‘listening waits ‘tear the years from her heart

and add them unceremoniously to her face

where angry crows stamp them into place.

How long has she lived

listening, waiting?

And still her Prince does not come.

A new thought jolts her upright –

is she waiting for the wrong thing?

Will Life creep by while she

listens for fairy dust?

Perhaps the sound of  Freedom

is no different from her heartbeat.

Perhaps bated breath

is better spent on

the Living.