I started this one sometime in early May, but due to several interruptions, I forgot about it until recently.
When you’re running late:
Headed to pick up a date—
Perhaps her name is Kate;
Or you’ve a meeting at eight,
To your rendez-vous you’d better hie;
And you realize there’s no good reason why,
Your brain begins to fly
To find some reason that’s not a lie.
When your obligations are not done:
The deadline is a rigid one—
Perhaps when Monday’s course is run;
Or you don’t want to disappoint your hun,
To the task at hand you’d better apply;
To avoid seeing disappointment in another’s eye,
Your brain begins to fly
To find some reason that will satisfy.
And yet, these times are ruled by fate,
When excuses are not shy,
And they will not make fun—
Unlike when you’re filled with butterflies.
Copyright © 2014 H.K. Longmore
Musings of a Kunderian Monster 