by Gina Guerra

Teetering, tottering, nearing collapse:
Cannot make progress, try hard though I might-
Time taunting me with its constant elapse.

I keep on trying, despite my mishaps-
Day turns to night as I write and I write,
Teetering, tottering, nearing collapse.

This time the words will just flow right? Perhaps.
My blank laptop screen blinds me: it’s too bright;
Time taunting me with its constant elapse.

Start of this poem for sure overlaps
With something that I completed last night…
Teetering, tottering, nearing collapse.

Poetry structures are my handicaps;
Oh! But that I were just more erudite.
Time taunting me with its constant elapse.

Enough lamenting of my judgements’ lapse!
I am the host: this is my parasite.
Teetering, tottering, nearing collapse:
Time taunting me with its constant elapse.