Enough time to grow weary,
but more time to grow strong–
three years go by quietly
but the day is yet long

It’s enough for the babe
to take her first steps,
to mouth then speak
words, full sentences yet

And moving from childhood
through middle school angst
brings braces and romance
and Mockingbird tastes

From sophomore year high school
To college dorm frats
The young grow to manhood
with off-key jazz skats

It’s a long time to whistle,
a long time to pray,
I’ve been whittling the hours
and daylight away

Here on this keyboard
mostly at night
A new poem I conjure
to summon the light.

Three years go by quickly;
there’s little to share.
The turtle keeps racing,
out-foxing the hare.

Which way did he go? Which way did he go?
Which way did he go? Which way did he go?

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