An Hour Late and Twenty Dollars Short
Moved up one hour the dinner bell
A happy tale there'd be to tell
Or twenty bucks plus tax and tip
To buy what restaraunts have to sell
"Let's just go out," a pleasant trip
I'm sure it would have all been swell
But dinner time, it did not gel
With timing off, I broke the spell
And everything to pieces fell
Yes, everything was shot to pieces
A happy tale there'd be to tell
Or twenty bucks plus tax and tip
To buy what restaraunts have to sell
"Let's just go out," a pleasant trip
I'm sure it would have all been swell
But dinner time, it did not gel
With timing off, I broke the spell
And everything to pieces fell
Yes, everything was shot to pieces
posted by wingman at 12:09 AM
2 Comments:
Isolation on a regular basis, esp. when one is storing packages filled with garbage and broken gifts, and has just added another client which will cause for less time to be and less time to water the flower,causes heaviness of body and spirit. Tell me, how does one live vibrantly on little sleep, little interaction, facing the reality that I am probably going to have to eliminate the one night in the week of the gathering of the souls. Sometimes this makes one little, seemingly insignificant, I did not do what I said I would do, seem like a beautiful ocean wave that could have washed over me and would have felt so good turn into a 10-story tsunami taking and drowning instead.
Yikes. Life is complicated.
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