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Under the Buzzer
How much more can I squeeze in before that sound,
That tolling bell with its lust for an ending?
Are my wits about me for this last go-round
Or is yours an ear I'm recklessly bending?
I'll admit I've been too gung ho on the journey,
Venturing far into badlands clean off the map.
Any more sweat and they'd have me on a gurney,
The price of placing one last feather in my cap.
I've raided the produce and slipped in the aisle,
Bananas and oranges flying every which way.
I've looked for love like it's going out of style,
Plunged myself with reckless abandon into the fray.
I nearly failed to appreciate I'm in my prime
In my effort to cram meaning into little time.
