To Do

Where my heart was once a-flutter
Now my head is all a-clutter
When I think I seem to stutter
Like a golfer with the yips

I've got a hundred things to fix
And I've run out of Weetabix
I'll be in work 'til after six
And I'm getting nothing done

It's December 22nd
And where once reunion beckoned
Now it seems I hadn't reckoned
That we'd be so far apart