The prompt today was to write a poem to another poem. So, growing up there was a picture in hall of a little boy sitting under a tree on a hilltop, fishing pole near, schoolhouse in the far distance. Under the picture was a poem expressing a wish not to be bothered doing so much but to rest a thousand years. I read it over and over, through many years. I thought of it whenever I was stressed. But all in all it was a bad direction to take!
Not going anywhere
.
.
He wished to be
a little rock
not off to work
not deep in hock
.
He wished to sit so very still
in wind and sun
on crest of hill
beneath a tree
without a thrill
.
I think he rested
far too long
his influence on me
far too strong
.
I dreamed and dreamed
without a peep
I sat too long
whilst thinking deep
.
I spent my life
all half asleep.
