I see the minute and I am angry

Fleeting seconds flit by

Tick tick tick

Sixty more

One minute of one hour of one day

I see the  day and I am angry

So few per month

Some bastards even have only Thirty

One only twenty eight. 

Fucking February

Go and take it away
I see the year and I am crushed

Yet another summer not so productive

No decent holiday

No memorable trips for the children

Yet winter looms

And I plan for the next
I see my birthday  and I an saddened

Another reminder of the cresting wave

At best I am half way

At worst, tomorrow’s sad tale

And regret frosts the cake

Yet the bliss of forgetfulness eludes me
And the children leave home

to tell tales of an unhappy father

And how they won’t be so

And that terrible song from the sixties plays

Cats in the Cradle

There is always still time


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