Drifting Poem by Phil Soar

My mind works in mysterious ways and drifts off quite at random
It’s like a ride on a bicycle that ought to be a tandem
Except that I am on my own with no help on the pedals
Trying hard to win a race that doesn’t hand out medals

I never liked my schooling years because of low esteem
I couldn’t stop my wanderlust and drifting off in dreams
I never had the aptitude to listen to the teacher
And often caught the back end of the sermons by the preacher

My time in the school chapel was a time I could relax
A place where all was peace and calm, and I would not feel taxed
By all the talk of learning and all the strain of class
I used to be student of just sitting on my ass

So it’s no wonder that I’m drifting on in adulthood
Regrets of what I didn’t learn or even what I should
There’s nothing of significance to make me change my thoughts
My mind still drifts on a sea of dreams, no matter what I’m taught