I have been accused of wasting time,
of taking in some too deep.
I have been accused of forgetfulness,
of unloving,
of loving too much-
when accusations fly
it is because one has done too much or too little
and in that sharp derision-there is praise
because we have done what another could not,
and all extremities are worth noting:
films are made, books are written, statues erected-
for all those who live their life with "too"...
there is no celebration for quiet morning moments
at a park picnic table,
so in this pure second I exist without fanfare,
I have no spectacle of ease.
I am solely in this action a celebration.
I am hero to nothing but this pen, the time on my cellphone
this thermos of coffee.
While some would call this a waste,
I have all the lines I will need.
Wasting Time
Michael G. Finlay has a BA in Theatre and Creative Writing. He has been a self-described "poet-monk" for the past five years, working odd-jobs, writing and not doing much of anything else. He lives in Nashville, TN with his daughter, cat and a large group of loved ones.