Around the midnight hour
(With mostly forays inept
And a little new hope's flower
Which makes a day end good
For us who walk a seeker's way),
The slight summer rain imbued
In me a silly kind of inner joy.
For now there was a reason legit
To wait in an armchair's sway
(Oh ! how could I get wet a bit ?!)
Till the downpour clears away.
This procrastinator's indulgence
At times, we indulge in gleefully.
When absurdest cause provokes "rest"
"There was no other way, you see !"
Except the tireless workaholic
Who breathes and lives work.
Much Respect for his simple ethic.
Work in Joy, Joy in Work !
But, if I may seriously defend !
(Procrastinated word's as good as guilty)
Procrastination itself is not to blame.
Overdoing it is the obvious folly.
So, well defended, I was waiting away
Staring, lazying, worrying, writing ...
When the window silently whispered to me,
"My boy, it has long stopped raining."
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