Twiddled thumbs have gone and worn a deep hole,
In fabrics of timeless occupation.
The urge to up and leave consumes my soul,
I tap my foot in anticipation.
I've tread this ground but one too many times,
To notice when the air has gotten stale.
I see my life presented clear in signs,
Out there I see the next step in my tale.
I must run back to where my heart doth lay,
But it can wait until tomorrow's day.