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Poetry: “Priorities”

Oh, the trouble with this.



The mind doth work
In mysterious ways
To shirk a task
Much too daunting
A quandary far too much
To fully grasp
In short amount of time
And then instead fall
Upon some lighter fare
Some dalliance
To pass the time
And for a time
Forget the rest
But knowing that
That things passed up
Will still remain
Simmering away
Waiting for the moment
When you’re forced
To lift the lid


Copyright © 2018 · All Rights Reserved · Fantasy Transcendent

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