Still Waiting
It was a time of bangles and tambourines –
a time of freedom, when we were seventeen
We danced, barefoot, in a field
amid a jungle of wildflowers and kneeled
beneath a cashmere moon, joining
hearts and voices with the universe, rejoicing
We thought we could punch a hole in the future
and our dreams would be the mending sutures
And now, we still strum our guitars,
waiting for the promised avatar
—
rhymeswithbug 