Time
waits for no mouse.
Though the
mice and the men make the greatest of plans,
We can't
fashion the fate which is out of our hands.
We can add
up the numbers and circle a date,
But
frustration and anguish will batter the gate.
When your
walls are built thick and supplies have been stowed,
You're repelling
the siege but the debt is still owed.
You've
signed up to a promise that someone else made,
You have
greased up the wheel, the machine has been paid.
Now you're
out of control and you're trapped on the ride,
And your
fingers are crossed, looking out from inside.
You're
reliant on everyone doing their part,
This seems
far more grown up than it did at the start.
Every day I
await a majestic report,
A reward
for my practice of positive thought.
When
disaster and bliss can both share the same air,
At a paradox
party, I've nothing to wear.
When the
targets keep moving it's hard to relax,
There's a
glimmer of light but it quickly retracts.
I keep
hoping that everything works itself out,
But there's
always that place where I harbour a doubt.
I remember
when time was a bountiful gift,
There were
months upon months for the mountain to shift.
But the
days drift away and the hurdles remain,
And my ears
hear the echo of every grain,
As it falls
from the timer and heralds concern
By the
envelope bulging with language to learn.
If there's
something to glean for the man and the mouse,
There is
nothing so stressful as buying a house. ,
