I have a habit that’s very bad
had it since I was a lad.
I never want to show up late
and I share this habit with my mate.
You never know when you’ll be delayed
walking in like a big parade
because there was traffic trouble
from a road filled with trash and rubble.
I don’t want to receive the hate
of those people who have to wait
for me so they can start the meeting
or even worse – to start their eating.
I get there early so I won’t worry
rushing around in a great big hurry
only to arrive the very first
so I won’t be the one that’s cursed.
Through the years I’ve wasted much time
feeling like the victim of a crime
because I’ve sat there for hours hating
the fact that I’m the one who’s waiting.
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btw, I make Bill wait a lot. Time is an enigma to me. I always have plenty of time, but suddenly it's the last minute and there we are--him waiting, me rushing around. Is there any cure?
Hopefully, your poem came "just in time" for me to heed.
Connie
JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS