My Turn

I have sat by the door

waiting… wondering when

it will open for me



The picture window that

adorns it is so clear;

I can see the whole tableau

There you sit, just beyond

hope's reach



On each knee sits your latest creation,

while at your feet lay the remnants of

my fame's precious fifteen



It would appear that

my newness has worn off

even though you know me,

I am tried and true

Still, I watch you… and wait



Daddy, what about me?



When will my turn come?



I have pressed my face

against the glass for so long,

don’t you see me?

don't you miss me?



I can feel your happiness,

even from out here

is any of it because of me?

don’t I still make you proud?



The waiting is all I seem to have now

so I hold on… and wait for

my turn to come.