Patience


Her mother was patient at her birth,
nearly 10 months, for what it was worth.

She finally induced with some castor oil,
ceasarien section was not in her foil.

So they named her Patience for the time,
that her mother had endured without wine.

For she was devoted to the blood of Christ,
and without daily communion patience sufficed.

Patience was slow to walk and talk,
but her parents' patience did not balk.

She sat by and watched the other children play,
it took a long time, but she joined in the fray.

Patience tried the patience of her teachers, too,
so slow with writing and math made her blue.

But she patiently waited until school was over,
and spent the summers smelling the clover.

With no job in hand, she waited for a man,
to come from the blue and take her hand.

But the years passed, and Patience, at last,
realized that Prince Charming was in the past.

So she took to the Internet, hesitant yet,
to see if a man would woo her and her pet.

With the litter box to blame, no man came,
as Patience watched her parents, grow lame.

Eventually to die, leaving Patience to cry,
alone in her room, asking, "Why?"

She sat in that room, her patience too soon,
and patiently waited to die that very noon.

Med alert came, and a man with no blame,
saved her cat and patiently called her by name.

A shy bachelor at heart, he knew from the start,
that Patience was the one who lit his flame.

He asked for her hand, and it was so grand,
that Patience's patience was no longer strained.



Patience, patiently waiting

A continuation of a series of poems based on
women's names, namely Handful, Grateful,
Careful, and Amazing Grace
, I started over
a decade ago.


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Copyright 2013 © Ronald W. Hull

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