Poetry, humor and more. Inspirational and informative items. Unless otherwise noted, all items posted here are written and copyrighted by Linda Ann Nickerson. All rights reserved.
"But let all who take refuge in You be glad. Let them ever sing for joy. Spread Your protection over them, that those who love Your Name may rejoice in You." (Psalm 51:11)
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Making up time sometimes ain’t pretty
Sometimes making up isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. This
poem, which I first published in 2007, tells the all-too-true story. Here’s
what happened, one morning, as I tried to make up some time during my daily
commute to the office. At the time, this experience cast a shadow on my
employment and perhaps caused me to blush.
Making up time
Rushed for work and out of gas,
With no time for the looking glass,
I snatched my keys and headed out
To face the daily knockabout.
I tossed my briefcase in the trunk
And grabbed a mug and roll to dunk.
I turned the corner at full tilt,
And raced my neighbor out in guilt.
Somehow, I zipped through every light.
Perhaps I’d make it; I just might.
My hopes were raised then, just a smidge,
Until I saw the tollway bridge.
The entry ramp was jammed with cars,
From rattling heaps to sleek Jaguars.
I sat there waiting for my turn
And listened to my stomach churn.
My dashboard clock was ticking eight,
Just taunting me that I was late.
My boss would gloat and call me out.
My well-earned raise would be in doubt.
But, living in the here and now,
I’d have to buy some time somehow.
My coffee drained, I glanced around
To spot efficiency newfound.
My makeup bag was in my lap,
While I sat in the traffic trap.
So, as I rolled my car an inch,
I put my face on in a pinch.
My lipstick smeared across my chin;
My eyeliner was crooked, thin.
Just then, the car began to skid;
Mascara smeared across one lid.
I spilled a compact on my skirt
And hit the brakes, now on alert.
The car behind me came too fast
And hit my bumper at full blast.
I stopped and shifted into park
And leapt out, gearing up to bark.
The reason for my sudden strife?
The driver was my boss’ wife!
She glared at me, and I at her,
With both our tempers much astir.
A cop arrived to part our brawl.
“Cosmetic damages, that’s all!”
c2007 by Linda Ann Nickerson
NOTE: Unauthorized use in printed materials, online, or in
other published arenas is prohibited.