You remember those times?
When you stayed up late?
Waiting.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Waiting for that time to come. That magical minute in the magical hour. That time when anything seemed attainable.
Right in your grasp.
Watching the clock
For the time where all dreams might come true.
Pass the test,
Get the boy,
Make the friend,
Reconcile
We all have wishes, no doubt.
But none which seem so near, so real,
than those of the teenagers waiting at night.
Hoping that everything turns out just right.
Hoping, wishing, believing, NEEDING, that wish to be true.
Whether that dream's importance was large or small,
That didn't matter at all.
Leaves grow on trees,
Flowers bloom,
Life goes on.
But what about that memory of those wishes
Years later, does it just lie in wait.
That mix of want and necessity rolled up in one.
Nothing more important, more vital, under the sun?
That wish that was wished many a time.
That answer, that solution that you could not find.
Remember those moments, before midnight.
Where
girls and boys turn off their lights.
And wait.
Waiting for that extraordinary time of symmetric pairs of 1's lined in a row,
That held much more, so much more than the sixty seconds allowed.
Remember far from now, when you are old and gray,
Those 11:11 wishes your younger self made.
