Anticipation (Anna was waiting)

Anna was waiting for a knock on the door.

It was dark but for the fire which roared at her feet.

The flames licked the logs and cracked loudly.

Her small hands curled tightly on her lap,

they desperately needed some blood,

so white they were.

The grandfather clock in the corner

ticked the seconds away,

each a month, each a lifetime apart,

past midnight, past Christmases and summers

and birthdays and lunches.

Drizzle tapped on the window,

the logs cracked loudly and the grandfather clock banged,

twice at every breath

but Anna waited stubbornly

for a knock on the door.

She could have shaken the fire,

could have watched the rain fall,

could have winded the clock..

But she was furiously waiting for a knock on the door.

head jerked to the left...was that a tap or a knock?

Her chair creaked, her skirts swished,

her small creamy hand curled around the brass, round knob.

She let out some air,

and invited it in.