Alarm rings at six and we’re off to the races
At the end of the day I’ll have hit 59 places
I got to get going!” I often boast.
Bumping off pillar and bouncing off post.
I quick grab by bag and sprit to the door
As I run down the stares I yell back “I’ll be late got B-ball at 4!”

10 minutes behind with my hair-soaking wet
I run for the bus and I’ll miss it, I bet
I just make it on and search for a seat
This routine gets more boring the more I repeat
Then jump off the bus make a B line to class
Can’t run in the hallways what a pain in the neck.

This being behind and rushing is crazy
You can call me many things but you can’t call me lazy.
Putting 29 hours in a 24 hour day
It’s crazy I know but what can I say.

Then always on Sunday whether I need it or not
I stop first at Starbucks and go to my spot.
You know where it is down by Abma’s Farm
Over the track make a right by the barn.
Oh you don’t know it? That’s probably best
I need my alone time I plea and request

And I don’t do a thing but just hold my tea
In the park, on the bench, with no one but me
And I see the blues bluer and the greens and the pinks
And the sky and the grass and the flowers that wink.
The world turns slightly slower and I smell the trees
The wind in my face, with a kiss from the breeze

I hear my heart beat its thump soft and low
And my breathing goes deeper melodic and slow
And I walk slowly home at a turtle pace
Strong and ready to get back in the race