It’s been so long since I had any time
That wasn’t promised to a type of work,
At first such freedom seems a thing sublime,
But then I wonder if I haven’t shirked

Some task that I’ve forgotten, it’s as though
My brain is so accustomed to the load,
That when it goes from overwhelmed to slow,
It lacks the skill to totally unload.

Instead of viral videos and memes,
To pass the time, I might just read a book.
Or write a fugue, or join a rugby team,
Or organize a perfect writing nook.

So may these precious, unexpected hours
Encourage postponed daydreams into flower.