Theresa Ann Moore
Procrastination - Poem by Theresa Ann Moore
Why is it that I always want to delay
doing the things that heavily weigh?
The longer it takes, the more I muse.
The shame is all the time that I lose.
What if I did the most dreaded chore first?
Then my nervous anxiety would be reversed.
Instead of a rain cloud hanging over my head.
My smile would be radiant and widespread.
Comments about Procrastination by Theresa Ann Moore
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- IfRudyard Kipling
- TelevisionRoald Dahl
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye