Shaking leg, not born to beg
Restless today
It's not even May
My patience is tried
I cannot lie
Things work out at snail's pace
Or not at all, eh Grace?
I'm shifting in my seat
Playing Geppetto's fiddle
Rocking to the beat
Or my own rapping diddle
Fidgeting without a spinner
Bored and baked
Ma, what's for dinner?
The sky is melting before my eyes
The canopy's giving
My doldrums a rise
How long
Oh Thor
Must we wait?
Time's short
So why be late?
Here, locked into patience . . .
~ Gunnar Våken
