It was going to be so good
I thought, only to be blindsided
By the pain of well-laid plans
Thwarted by the ferry’s
Slavish adherence to schedule

I saw it pull from the dock
At the tick of the clock,
And what a shock it is
Not to be doing the thing
I had so looked forward to

I’d anticipated, feared and prepared
For each eventuality save
The one which came to pass
“Let that be a wee lesson, lass,”

sez the voice, “For time matters
And when you don’t factor it in
To the equation, it passes
Faster than you might think.”

Next time, you may be sure,
I shall give Lord Time his due

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