Waiting. As If In The Cold...Outside!

Waiting.
As if in the cold...outside!
Feeling a joke had been told.
And I knew it.
But was not suppose to admit this.
Yet feeling inside a warmth that satisfied.

I saw the picture,
Before the pieces of the puzzle...
Had to others been known.
'Something' had shown me a preview.
And I could not tell who...
Or what it was that came to chill me to the bone.

An aloneness I knew and tolerated it.
My experiences existed,
In a time I envisioned before they came to visit.
And I would wonder 'why' I was permitted,
To see, feel and touch what had yet to arrive.

Waiting.
As if in the cold...outside!
Feeling a joke had been told.
And I knew it.
But was not suppose to admit this.
Yet the older I get,
More secluded becomes my 'unique and differentness'!

I saw and knew.
But couldn't tell how.
So there I stood...
Waiting.
In the cold...outside!
Feeling a joke had been told.
But did not know 'why'...
'Something' had shown me a preview.
And I could not tell who...
Or what it was that came to chill me to the bone.

I was not alone.
Nor was I existing to live on my own.
And I knew this but did not know why,
Me?
Nothing did I do,
To welcome delusions.

by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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