Waiting for Tomorrow’s Bated Breath
I once knew a boy named Rhys,
Whose imagination leapt out of bounds.
He’d gab about all his ingenious ideas,
Tantalising anybody’s ear that was around.
Spouting every ounce of thought trapped in his offbeat brain,
All day and night, if you indulge him.
His tongue conjured fantasies,
His words weaved wondrous gadgets and designs.
His mind outlined blueprints that one can only imagine:
Of teleporting shoes that haul you to any land in the world,
Wings that fly you through skies like dragons in mid-flight,
And a mask that helps you breathe underwater to live among the fishes of the deep sea.
I waited with bated breath,
Asking him if I could try them all someday,
His first lab rat at Rhys Inc.
He’d smile and say, “Soon, Sam. I’ll start working on them tomorrow.”
But time ticked away,
Like falling grains of sand.
Day by day, month after month, year upon year lapsed,
And still, his work hadn’t begun.
We scampered through our blossoming Spring,
Unable to see what we left behind in the settled dust.
Primary school became a passing thought
as the clocks struck three,
We’d run amock and play among the streets, parks and woods tonight.
Our hearts tethered to the frail kite strings above in the dusk-soaked sky.
But soon those kites would fly away
And we’d never know why.
We wrestled through our soaring Summer,
Seeking out a shelter for salvation,
Amidst the haze of high school torment.
Stranded in the drought with parched minds.
Rhys clung to his daydreams in the shade,
While I pursued prospects on the beating horizon.
He sat in pensive moods to whittle away the grains of time,
While I worked away on silent deeds forever left unsung.
His mind outlined blueprints that one can only imagine:
of a pill that shunned the flu, so you can frolick around forever in heavy rain,
A device that mimicked your parents’ voices, so you can abandon school affairs to roam free,
And an anti-bully shield that’d shock all those who dared to lay a hand on him again.
I waited with bated breath,
Asking him when he’d get to work on them someday,
Afraid that he’ll be left behind in the settled dust,
While I flew towards the sun-baked sky.
He’d smile and say, “Soon, Sam. I’ll start working on them tomorrow.”
But time ticked away,
Like falling grains of sand.
Day by day, month after month, year upon year lapsed,
And still, his work hadn’t begun.
We toiled through our endless Summer,
The thread uniting us now strained under a knife’s edge.
He fell asleep on his dreams,
While I persisted my work in fertile fields.
Soon our paths divided.
He laboured away at odd jobs,
Trying to make amends for an idle past.
While I took the coveted role of engineer,
Sailing across the stardust of his dying dreams.
Many abandoned Rhys with no care or concern,
He was left stranded on land.
I stole a glance back, a wild itch clawing over my skin,
A desperate plea to lend him a hand.
I never anchored into port.
Someday, we met in our hometown.
I came adrift as a raving graduate,
Seeking drops of liquid courage in the bottom of a glass.
In the pub, I saw a familiar face, now ripened, worn and faded,
But still brimmed with a stream of unbridled, ingenious ideas.
I sat at the counter, Rhys stood behind it.
A pair of jigsaw pieces latched into place.
We chatted about our strayed paths, recalled old tales,
Bantered, hollered and laughed,
Like two starry-eyed kids,
Once inseparable best friends,
Now the only ones who mattered among the merry crowd.
I asked if he still daydreamed and his eyes lit up with a lively glow.
He gabbed about all his ingenious ideas,
Tantalising my pricked ears that were around.
To hear him alone,
Spouting every ounce of thought trapped in his offbeat brain,
All day and night, as I always indulged him.
His tongue conjured fantasies,
His words weaved wondrous gadgets and designs.
His mind outlined blueprints that one can only imagine:
A sculpting tool that modified the shape and size of you at a whim’s notice,
A hacking device that granted you access to the world’s bank account,
And a time machine that would allow him to reclaim lost grains of sand.
I waited with bated breath,
Asking if “someday” had finally come along,
My unanswered prayer awaiting its verdict,
I caught the glisten in Rhys’ eyes,
I secured the wistful stroke across Rhys’ lips,
He’d smile and say, “Soon, Sam. I’ll start working on them tomorrow.”
But time ticked away,
Like falling grains of sand.
Day by day, month after month, year upon year lapsed,
And still, his work hadn’t begun.
Then one day he was gone.
Left to settle in the gathered dust.
I drifted through my waning Autumn,
Amidst the settled leaves of amber, scarlet and copper,
Recalling a haunted tale carried by the wind,
Sealed in the echo chamber of memory,
Blared on a morning radio long ago,
The untimely news of an old companion,
And his offbeat imagination,
All consumed in a fatal collision on a bridge,
One distant night.
Rhys’ name last carried on radio waves,
A static murmur sending him to rest, among the stardust of his dreams,
Like a forgotten moment lingering hopelessly,
Never recalled aloud again on one’s tongue.
I roamed through my weary Winter too,
With no more fields to sow, no more mountains to move, no more skies to sail through.
Recessing atop a misty peak,
The summit’s air tainted with barren breath.
The shrieking wind remained by my side,
My grief-stricken companion.
Heralding its haunted tale anew.
The stale song still carving into buried wounds,
His name unearthed from my tender heart and frail mind.
When I close my eyes to listen fairly,
Then I heard the muses high in heaven,
All come to lament his absence,
Singing an ode for broken promises left to ruin.
I once knew a man named Rhys,
Whose imagination leapt out of bounds.
He’d gab about all his ingenious ideas,
Tantalising anybody’s ear that was around.
But we never, not once, got to see this visionary
Breathe a single one of his ideas to life.
Have you ever felt like you are not living up to your potential? Or have you ever thought that someone close to you is not living their dream? This piece explores these themes as a free-verse poem.