Even at my advanced years
(It’s rude to ask a gentleman his age),
I still find I like to speed through things,
rather than enjoy the ride.

It’s the journey, they say,
and I do like a road trip,
but I also like to arrive.
I want to make good time.
I want to be efficient;
I don’t want to dilly dally,
even if the dallying is why I’ve gone off
in the first place.

Smelling the roses, may be the point,
after all,
and what is poetry
but taking a moment
to notice the small things?