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Only here on holidays
I know, now, I
rarely come around
Got my head up
in the clouds
but this coach seat
has never let me down
I swear,
Not getting’ uppity
just finally found
my ground
Found a way to flex my wings
through this four-year scheme
Dreams deferred are
nonexistent
I grasp them every instant
I’m awake
I’m complete
therefore, I rarely sleep
Rarely wait
in their lines
checked my bag ahead of time
Gone ‘til December and
for Christmas
that 4.0 is mine!

Give H.O.P.E. Live H.O.P.E.

Grant Crusor
Guest Blogger

About the Author

Grant Crusor is a poet and native of the Chicagoland area. He recently published his first book of poetry, Nowhere to Hide, as well as a free e-chapbook, Racing. The most succinct description of Grant would be:  a son/brother/lover/friend/fighter/thinker/writer. Find out more about Grant at www.grantcrusor.com.

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