Hot Pursuit
Floating gently in the air
It seems to have such grace
Before it leaves him evermore
His hand to it does race
As if a game it darts away
And mocks his lame attempt
He takes a step to try again
And finds only contempt
It begs him come and snatch it up
It's his; he wants it now
He runs to grab it quicker still
And starts to furl his brow
Why must it be so hard to grab
It's good to have he knows
Abundance of this goodly thing
Would make him brightly glow
Harder still he chases 'round
It will be his to use
He trips about and meets the ground
About to blow his fuse
Out of breath he lays his head
And soaks in his defeat
Then pondering considers how
His chase was all but sweet
Suddenly it dawned on him
That through his rush to gain
The opposite of this good thing
Was steering at his reigns
Impatience led him to be swift
But now he'll sit and wait
He stares intently as it dances
Like it were elate
Anger and frustration flees
The thing sinks to the ground
Gently he just picks it up
Patience, he has found