Christmas Was Late


Christmas was late this year.

It was far too warm, and, I fear,

My annual letter won't be written.

Because, with the procrastination bug,

I've been bitten. 


It isn't that I consciously wait.

For I think about it all the time.

It's just that my choices are so many,

And there's so little time.


I've got this to do and that.

Ever present bills to pay and debts to keep.

No time to worry,

No time to sleep. 


My agenda is getting so crowded,

With trivial wastes of time.

All the time savers in the world.

Spend a dollar to save a dime.


In another year it will make no difference.

If there is a Christmastime.

The new millennium will be upon us,

With its shifty paradigm.


Will I shift in time?


Copyright 1998 © Ronald W. Hull




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