Some say the twelfth of never is an awfully long time
Like infinity multiplied many times over by infinity
How long it takes to find just the appropriate rhyme
When my oldest son will establish a solid identity.
A young lad, like me, longed for Christmas in May
Wondered if his school days would ever come to an end,
The nine months our parents waited for our birthing day
How long it will take for a festering family rift to mend.
The twelfth of never is an awfully long time, I suppose
Stretching beyond the measures of time and space
So, in all seriousness, with permission may I propose
That we practice patience and greet every day with grace.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem