Round The Clock Poem by John Shea

Time is of the essence
A lovely journey
At some expense
I could not wait
At the age of eight
For the mailman and his prize
Remembering the cereal I ate
Troubled child when he was late
Then I grew and notes of love did send
To a cute little blond
Around the bend
Did go crazy around fifteen
loose in the street
With snakes and spiders in my hands
My friends with venom
We had plans
To alienate my life
For they did not understand
Found out as I grew older
They were just a fad for me
Now old and gray notes of love do send
To a cute little blond
Around the bend.