Seems to be a manly thing
This tending to procrastinate
To wait and wait until to late
Always seems to be my fate
So every year I say it
And believe it to be true
I’ll buy my presents early,
For you and you and you
I’ll spend more time in searching
And when I know its right
No need to even ponder
Or wonder through the night
I’ll buy and wrap and put away
Then hide them till that special day
The presents that were so inspired
Ordained for all of you
But shopping genes are not innate
I chastise myself, and then berate
I won’t be late, won’t hesitate.
But every year, again, it’s fate
Up and down the aisles I walk
Blindly with my peers
This tribe of fellow hunters
that gathers every year
All of us with vacant staring
Hunting gifts without caring
Does not matter what we pay
For Tomorrow is … The Day
Raymond Olson © 2008
0 Comments