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'Just wait a minute, ' that is what I hear,
I'm an impatient one who doesn't have much time,
yet it has been my lot to be quite far, not near,
from action needed prior to the clock's next chime.
And when you ask, my friend, what really is a minute,
ain't there a lot of them, an awful, countless number?
As a comedian would describe it 'Bear and Grin it',
and in the morning you would gladly add one to your slumber.
It's a commodity of pretty small dimensions,
consisting, as it does, of only sixty seconds.
If running late for work you're feeling added tension,
but at the dentist you don't like it when he beckons.
It must be unimportant, cheap and easy money,
this timely measure of a person's detailed life.
If in a minute it could rain or be blue skies and sunny,
your wife could whisper 'it will be just one more minute'.
But as so often is the case, when people pay attention
to stupoid, unimportant, obsolescent matters,
they fail to realise a truth that I must mention:
No minute does repeat, that is a myth that quickly shatters.
Herbert Nehrlich
Read poems about / on: money, running, work, truth, rain, friend, people, time, sky
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