Time In The Day
Yes perhaps as I ponder events of the day, Then as long as I can without wavering say, “The best that I could with the time that I had,” Is fulfilling enough and sufficiently glad.
It seems there is not enough time in the day,
To say all the things that I wanted to say,
To do all the things that I planned in my head,
It’s midnight by now and the day is long dead.
I stretch and I learn and I listen and heal,
I love and I laugh and I cry and I feel,
I “bring home the bacon” as they often may say,
But perhaps they’re mistaken, this devious phrase,
My duty as father, as husband, as friend,
Fulfilling the tasks to provide and to fend,
Protecting and serving my loved ones until,
All their heads rest in silence on top of their pillow,
I look at my watch and my mind scurries ‘bout,
I’m now asking myself what can I do without?
Is it dishes? Or music? Or reading a book?
Or lay on the couch with a destitute look?
Who decided the length of the time of the day?
Who convened and unanimously voted yay?
“Oh it’s plenty of time” perhaps somebody spoke,
Were they mad or maliciously cracking a joke?
Or maybe they knew in the depths of their mind,
At the end of the day they’ll be tasks left behind,
They’ll be dishes stacked high, or a book left unread,
Or that musical tune will just stay in your head,
Yes perhaps as I ponder events of the day,
Then as long as I can without wavering say,
“The best that I could with the time that I had,”
Is fulfilling enough and sufficiently glad.
And my head on my pillow in silence of night,
Just the glow of my phone and the hallway dim light,
I think of a joke that my son said today,
I smile to myself as my mind slips away,
Time in the day? What concern is that of mine?
All I need is just a few precious moments,
Moments in time.
