When is the Write Time?
The older I get the more I know, someone wise once said
I feel that anxiousness begin before I get out of bed.
Then why do I have more to do than I did before?
I stagger out of bed and wonder if all of us are falling behind?
The older I get the more I wonder if I have lost my mind,
The dog urgently needs to go outside, the cats whine to be fed
I finally make a coffee and sit and review
The list of things I am required to do.
I indulge in the fantasy of a life alone
I know I would never survive whatever would I do?
I have learned to live in this zoo.
God as my witness I have tried many things
I learned the art of delegation
The art of gentle persuasion
To sneak in a session for me to write
I learned to say NO
I learned to let go
For I am not perfect, I accept without resistance.
But like today, yesterday and tomorrow
the list of things I need to do appears to grow
There is always that inner struggle
to balance it all, to perfect the juggle
I try to slink past the pile of creative starts without finishes
that stare at me from my office table
“I tell them I will come when I am able”
One will smile and say sure and yet another will yawn
and the Halloween story says it collecting dust
to this I respond but I have to do this or that, I must ! I must!
I resign myself to closing the door to my writer’s lair
For I cannot stand their constant glare.
“Good night”, I whisper. ” I will see you soon.”