Camped out

Being the first in line
Camped out in front
Is almost as good as being inside
"Do you even know when they open?"
Someone asks.
"No,"
I respond,
"But it doesn't matter.
I'll be here until they do."
Outside
I'm filled with memories
Of the interior
Bedecked with marvels,
Of my room
Decorated for me
By my Father.
A heady glow
Warms me in the chill

The worst part
Is my enemy's voice
Noxious, anxious
Infiltrating every sweet sighing
With homing darts
Calibrated to my fears
That I won't get inside,
That I never was.
He can't come inside
He hates that I can;
That's what I remember
As I fill my heart
With the scent
Of my Father's kingdom
His presence
His wonderful way towards me
And assure myself
That I'll be inside soon