The old tainted laamp
Waits on the wood
Where wall meets wall.
Waiting
for a lightening bolt to strike
in me.
Waiting for uniqueness
to flow.
Giving something as
noticable as the glow it once shed.
Yet storms are
delaying waiting for
their moment
to wake me up.
But as we both wait
for the unique
We'll just
sit
and stare
at each other.