Anticipation always creeps up on me when least expected.
Anticipation builds up like honey oozes out of the bottle.
Anticipation rises with the smell of baking bread.
When the bread and honey come together, anticipation is over.
I never cared much for anticipation.
I always chose impatience and skepticism to keep my life serene.
Neatly packaged, not golden and sticky
No sweetness to offset the sting.
No warm bread to melt the honey.
Anticipation is devoured at last.
I chose to align anticipation with food that undergoes changes and how I do not like anticipation in my life. Sounds odd, doesn’t it? I am, and always have been, an impatient person. I don’t want to wait for the honey to drip or the bread to rise. I want answers, action, and adventure. I don’t want to anticipate those answers, actions, or adventures, I want them now and I am skeptical that they will never happen.
