Posted January 31st, 2007 by JennyWren
Ode to Procrastination
(or: How the Author Avoids Housework)
An ant, intent upon his work,
went marching past my hand.
I wondered at these folk, who have
done so much more than man.
They've seen it all, they've passed it down
The generations through.
Their lives must have some meaning,
Could their patterns be a clue?
Tap, tap - no, left!
Tap, tap - it's here
And so the work goes by;
No wonder at what went before,
No pause to question, "Why?"
It seems they know a simpler truth
That is not mine to grasp,
And oft I've wondered whether I
Would know it, in the last.
How about we start a Really Bad Poetry night? *grin*
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