On Piddling

"You like to piddle more than anyone I've ever seen,"
said my mother.
It was neither a condemnation nor an accolade,
simply a statement of fact.
I had sense enough back then to be sensible.
I knew that a life could not be exist on piddling,
and if I thought it could, my mother's stern attention
reminded me that it would not.
So I studied, became responsible,
did my best, made her proud.

But still I made mud pies, imaginary friends,
listened to all the stories my dad could read or tell,
and piddled.

I still work, but I have plans;
I plan to piddle--all I can.