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To Fiddle With A Nothing To Do To Get Done

Early in my life,
I became inquisitive about it.
And I am glad it has not stopped.
With a developing of many interests.

So happy am I,
My curiosities I have not dropped.
Some who have retired,
Seem to have done it from living life.

Only to have one interest...
As a routine until that ends.
And with nothing else in which to depend...
Can be,
And is...
A boring existence.

And to become bored with a life that still exists,
I can not imagine it.

Constantly there are changes made.
And those who once believed a stability meant,
Doing one thing that defined a normalcy...
May find themselves and that normalcy,
As outdated as one accepting...
A stability one perceived would stay forever.
And a forever,
Is just not meant to be.

And those once called a jack of all trades,
But a master of none.
Have found themselves amongst those,
Not the ones at home alone,
Twiddling their thumbs.
To fiddle with a nothing to do to get done.

This is not a problem for a jack of all trades.
To twiddle their thumbs with a nothing that's done.
This is not a problem for a jack of all trades.
To twiddle their thumbs with a nothing that's done.
This is not a problem for a jack of all trades.
To twiddle their thumbs with a nothing that's done.
A jack of all trades has a life that's saved.
And something everyday there is an interest made.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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