but not the hand.
Comprehending,
understand;
tortuous blending
body and mind,
never ending.
Oh, fate, be kind!
Heat’s oppressive,
of wind no trace,
I hope it’s worth
winning this race.
Sweat is pouring
off fevered brow,
keep on writing,
don’t dare stop now!
Fahr’nheit 90,
there’s no shade,
in self-same boat
paddle or wade?
I’m up the creek
in my canoe,
I must not speak.
How goes’t with you?
The air is still
I cannot face
Facility
With which our race
Accepts exams
With quite so much
Temerity.
The time is up
put down the pen,
am I to be
leader of men?
Or am I just
a melted dot,
ready to join
the melting pot?
Verica Peacock
Verica Peacock
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