Waiting on Her Again

Th nutter who's just walked past me,
Has told me he knows what I'm doing.
I find that hard to believe.
How can he possibly know that I'm waiting for a woman,
I seem to spend my life waiting for.
It's November. It's freezing, it's raining,
And I'll stand here and wait.
To prove a point.
That I would stand for hours in the pouring rain,
Just to see her face.
So she can mock me, and say hurtful things
Behind a guise of jesting.
Things that she can't possibly mean,
I hope not, at least.

The nutter has ambled away now.
But I'm still stood here, waiting on her again.