A Will of Its Own
Like counting the rings on a sycamore stump,
Nobody answers the phone.
And then when they do, they just put me on hold.
Time has a will of its own.
It flows midnight to noon from December to June
And then back again, day after day;
An illicit affair between tortoise and hare
In a hickory-dickory way.
I borrowed a scene from a screenplay I wrote.
Now I'm repaying the loan.
My script for the sequel rejected again.
Time has a will of its own.
It rolls Summer through Fall till Times Square drops the ball
As the signal to start a new year;
An impetuous race where we all run in place,
‘cause baby, nobody gets there from here.
There's nothing to do on a Saturday night;
Binge watching Netflix alone.
I ordered a pizza two hours ago.
Time has a will of its own.
The shorter your patience, the longer the wait.
Time has a will of its own.
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