Patience is the brook in a wildflower field; it's gentle dribble a lullaby. The warm spring sun that kisses your skin as the breeze that keeps away the burn.
Patience is the harmonious mixture of love and discipline; the stern mentor who drives you to become the best human being you can possibly become.
Patience is the willingness to grow like the tulip in spring; a cascade of colors cover the ground like a carpet of dreams, their velutinous petals covering the ground.
Patience is my Master like a 500 year old redwood he stands unmoving. Stoic and impassive; He is this wall that blocks all the bad of the world from me.
Patience is what I am learning, the gratification of the long game is so delectable. Sweeter then a fat red strawberry freshly picked and hot from the sun.
Patience is the satisfying end to a long book. All the twists and turns, the tragedy and love; the smell of old paper in your nose.