June 30: Half way home ...

Yep, I’ve made it half-way, good for me I do say

Should I continue this task, or just quit

There are days I compose just like Mozart my prose

But others when it gives me the shits

There are days when the timing of all of my rhyming

Is clever, and cool and so witty

But when I do coast, I’m sure the stuff that I post

Makes my grammatical skills look unpretty

How many poems have I written to date

Let me count them all up, it wasn’t that hard

Should I cut with a knife and get along with my life

Undecided I scribe "unsure" on my card

For a title I wonder, what to call all this stuff

"Six months in the life of" sounds so bad

"A year" sounds much better, but if I stop now I’ll fetter

Half a year of fine words that I’ve had

I think I’ll go on, I’ve done one eighty one

And I’m just not the type to give up

With this rhyming and timing the numbers keep climbing

There’s room for more wine in my cup

So you have it my friends, this is not where it ends

I undertake that I'll write many more

But my mandate still stands, my fate's in my hands

If they’re crappy I'll walk out the door