On Watching Paint Dry Poem by Tom Billsborough

Watching paint dry is a pure conjecture
And, I might add, infinitely superior
To attending an Economics Lecture.
One morning, as I do recall,
We shuffled into the Lecture hall
And soon to drown out talk of Quantative easing,
Which I assume is a laxative cure
We raised our eyeballs to the ceiling
Counting the spots arrayed up there.
No doubt he thought his speech uplifting
Seeing us gaze at the heavenly spheres.
If we'd only been able, during that incredible lecture,
To watch some wet paint breathe out its moisture
And thrill to slow changes as it lightened its colour!