Never enough arms
to juggle the minutes.
Always something to fill,
and something to fix,
something to carry,
something amiss—
one eye on the clock,
one eye on the winds.
I’m a tangle, a jumble,
a snarl of to-do,
but I always keep
two arms free
to reach
toward you.
Nice rhythm especially, and rhymes enhance it. A testament to love.