Beaver

A Work (not) in Progress

I am a work not in progress

A haphazardly constructed script 

Archived on the writing desk 

Never to be thought of or pondered

But to be locked away in the cupboard 

Lest anyone attempt to trace

I am a work not in progress

An uneven amorphous illustration  

Shabbily drawn with a blunt pencil 

By an artist who herself looked slightly dreadful 

To be left in the inner room on a canvas 

Not to be approached for a gander 

I am a work not in progress   

An unstable meld of unsound emotions

A cantankerous chorus of cussing and clamour 

A sight not for sore eyes 

Who can’t seem to show up to a single event on time 

Don’t come to me for any bit of life advice 

I am a work not in progress

I am the completed product

A haphazardly constructed script 

An uneven amorphous illustration 

An unstable meld of unsound emotions

And yet I remain worthy of love 

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