a waste of time

I waste my time

Watching timers,

All the time.

If I’m not clock watching,

I’m waiting for a digit to change

Thinking that I wish that the 9

On the indicator

Would just light up one more line

So that I could now see

The number 8

And appreciate

The whittling away

Of my railway station wait.

So than I can be soon back home

Watching a lighted bar

Move across my computer screen,

Almost imperceptibly slowly

As I do, more seemingly endless

Down and uploading.

And moving folders and files around

And if I’m not gazing at some timer flickering,

I’m faffing around

Or laying dozing listening to

The time pips on the radio

That go, meep, meep, meep, meep

Like a niggling itch,

Which won’t let me go back to sleep again

I think that I must get going

I know that I must get moving

So that can always be punctual

Keeping up with the time

Is the futile aim of my meaningless ritual,

Which means that I never get

Introverted or metaphysical

And wonder  why this old bald ape

Works himself up into such a state,

When, sooner or later,

He won’t have the time to wait and watch

The digits of the timer or the hands of the clock

Which may well continue

When his time has stopped.