by Glen Martin Fitch
"You're wasting your time."
so leers the jock.
And I glare back.
"My time is mine to waste."
There's what and when and how,
and where's the clock,
and I don't want
my towel and keys misplaced.
"Go on and play"
the anxious parents plead.
They fear the hesitation
of their child is fear.
Kids know instinctively
they need to watch and test
while data is compiled.
"Get down from there!"
surprised a parent screams.
Look who did what
while waiting out of sight!
Most kids will dare
a studied task,
it seems,
when confident
that now the time is right.
Today's not 'bout
how fast or hard or more.
My hardest exercise
is my front door.
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ABOUT THE POET ~
Glen Fitch is a 16th Century poet lost in the 21st Century. Born near Niagara Falls, educated in the Catskills, thirty years on the Monterey Bay he now lives in Palm Springs. Retail not academics has paid the bills. Someday he will finish Spenser's "The Fairie Queene."
Last updated August 23, 2011