The Delay
a young man
holds a single rose
behind his back
and stands –
watching the travelers disembark.
he fidgets
with the flowered stem;
his fingers press
the thorns;
waiting to sight the one he loves.
passengers
walk by him, then few
alone are left.
concerned;
his heart is pierced with double pain.
. . . later that
evening, unaware,
she holds his hands;
the wounds
of worried doubt now warm with care.
resilient;
faith’s tender skin heals
against his heart;
enduring
much of love’s uncertain certainties.
– Jerry Dan Deutschendorf