Some days are busy, while others are not.
Still, you
must deal with whatever you’ve got.
Even with
planning, you never can tell
When life
will get hectic, at least for a spell.
It’s great
to exist between boredom and crazed,
But when
that occurs, I am slightly amazed
For either
the hours stretch out without end
Or I’m
rushing, with poems rather hastily penned.
Somehow neither
one lasts very long and I find
That the
busy-ness isn’t a state that I mind
Since at
least I’m engaging that part of my brain
That allows
me to function, but lets me complain!
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