Waiting For The Hands To Touch The Stared At Numbers Poem by Not Long Left

tap dancing on lillypads,
singing in fields of silky spider webs.
swimming in lakes of lemonade,
climbing up sugar shimmering mountains,
swinging on ropes of silver and gold,
staying young never getting old

bouncing on B.F.G's belly,
lost in the maze of his ear,
flying a fighter plane, not having to steer,
skating on permanent frozen ice,
riding the graceful unicorn,
20 minutes left till the hands touch the stared at numbers,
then the skin can be shed,
office can be left,
chemicals can rinse a tired contained brain,
5 days before i have to write this nonsense again