Time

An hour to myself or maybe two
A coffee and the time to sit and drink
It isn’t that I haven’t things to do
But I afford myself some time to think
The world is rushing on at such a pace
Sometimes I feel so giddy I can’t see
I like to stop, to focus on a face
But modern life’s transacted rapidly
It looks like I’m a tortoise sitting there
No doubt I’ll never win that human race
Another man will be successful hare
For I will stop and linger in this place
No pressure in this gentle life of mine
I grant myself the precious gift of time

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Author: thepoetautist

A Gay poet of fifty odd years who is currently living in Cambodia.

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