The girl who waited

Waiting weighted with wonderings within and without. Wistful, yet wary of wandering.
Willfully wanting a way forward that would whisk away the distraction of longing, whilst remaining resolute in aforementioned affections. Applying wisdom, weeding out and wiping clear the waning warmth with which my appetite had been whetted. Whistling a wily tune of when and why, my weeping washes the windows of my soul. I reside where I am in this world, both wonderful and weary, worse for the welcome but content to contend for now. And so I wait.