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Donna's Poems
Indian Time
by Donna Flood

Recently I read of a snippet from Dallas,
Who wrote it, pauper or prince in palace?

He spoke of his father's obsession with time,
There was more than is in this rhyme.

There wasn't tolerated a micro minute tardy,
Be on time, whether for work or party.

I know it is so,  as I recall the city,
It was striking to me, their  way, no pity.

Especially when all here revolves relaxed,
Whether you live in mansion or shacks.

When an invitation from our folks go out,
Question always is, "What time? About?

Reply might be, "Oh, I don't know,
Give Indian time a go."

Now, we who know what it can mean,
This is any place and any time between.

If it is for the setting the camp ground,
Someone will be there early and around.

For any reason everything works,
All functions come off with no quirks.

"I'm past the wish to preach,
I simply enjoy not having to reach!"

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