Waiting

I find myself waiting again and again
amidst a sea of faces and figures
put on hold
pausing
while time marches on
marauding every second on my wrist watch.
My aching feet planted on the gray gravel sidewalk
Where I've been
For what seems an eternity.
Time stolen from me
I can never get back.
How much of my life
Is wasted
On waiting?

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John, my husband, missed my writing. He assigned me to write this piece while I was waiting. What do you think?