Friday Night Poetry

The Long Wait


Her smile as we were eating
was meant for me
and I felt I was my brother
though I was still only a boy:
my brother was off fighting
an unwanted war,
and in my parent's house
she was lonely that night.
Taking her to dinner
made me feel like a man,
but later, when I passed her bedroom door,
I heard her crying.
I was a boy,
I thought of how her smile
was meant for me—
I wasn't my brother.
I leaned against the wall of the hallway;
I couldn't leave alone such a hurt
and so I stood guard
until the crying through the door
grew too soft to hear.


—CRT