To look at me, you might say
“Linear accountant type
No creativity, no way, ”
In spite of my sloth
My unorganized piles
My many hours
Swirled away reading
watching listening
Procrastinating
I am creating
Orchestrating
The symphony
Of my existence
Singing my survival
Play-writing my life
Screen-playing my dialogue
All on the cuff
Not complaining
It’s not all that rough
It’s rather a jolly hobby
It's more than enough.
More than a Sunday
It’s a month of them.
More than a sundae
It’s a banana split
With hot fudge dripping.

Sheila Burns

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/creativity/