I'm taking my time to pen this verse.
And now I wonder which is worse?
To pen it quickly as fast as thoughts come
or patiently feel my hand go numb.
I know if I rush I'll rue that fact.
So I'll pen it slowly and let the words react
to the tranquil feeling of no speed.
For I think today that's what I need.
As I look outside I see the fog.
It's as thick as last night's drink of eggnog.
Maybe it will lift later in the day.
Or worst case scenario it just might stay.
I refuse to let this pen take me low.
I'll just let the thoughts slowly flow
into the direction that brings me peace
and desist from allowing my tempo to increase.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem