Time to Hang
This world is full of different slang.
Composed of those who try to rhyme “hang”
And those who don’t,
But still think they can.
It’s filled with people who rush,
People catching a plane, train or bus,
Those always late,
And the rest
Still can’t remember today’s date.
We don’t cherish the entire clock,
Like the space between tick and tock.
Nor the quiet embrace
Of the summer wind
Flowing across your hands and face.
“What did you do on your vacation?”
They’ll ask with faces of elation.
You mustn’t fail nor falter to reach
Well beyond, “We just sat on the beach.”
“But what else did you do?” They insist.
“There must be more; a detail you missed!”
But must there really need to be?
Is it true?
Each day filled with an adventure to see?
It’s only human, being eager to share,
To boast, to embellish, and to swear.
A chance to speak of living so lavish,
When in actuality,
You didn’t do nearly as much as you had wished.
Stand true to yourself and your ways,
Time shouldn’t be measured in years or days.
Recall the good, the bad, and all in between,
There’s more to this,
Than memories and photo albums to be seen.
I’ll take the afternoon swinging in the hammock,
It gives me time away from daily fears and panic.
I hope to hear the birds how I remember they sang,
And like the orangutan,
I haven’t a care in the world, but all the time to hang.