Elucidating Questions

Waiting for you is like holding my breath as long as I can and then letting out

Like awaiting the sound of pitter patter as you run through the living room

I see you every chance I get

But I’ve never met you

Little Pan

Abuser of Syrinx, creator of the flute which bares his name

Little god, not quite

Do they find it fun when we name our wee ones after them?

Or is it blasphemous

Suppose we’ll never know

But waiting for you little one I count the minutes, hours, and days

Until you’re finally in my arms