I realized how, essentially, leaving my last post as it stood was the equivalent of excitedly holding up a book for the world to read with only the preface completed.
So, here's a poem I wrote back in October.
Game Of Inches
Displaying my exactness
Translates to distractedness
And suspending disastrous
Potential upon my slumber
For I’m told that by numbers
Does the player play
Baseball, shuffleboard and relay
Pinching inches, the young man winces,
His life he rinses away
But life is not a game of inches
Nor is it even a game
And yet the aspiring musicians and athletes we are
Will try to miss by not so very far
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