Waga

In a town where time swirled like a dance,

There lived a man named Waga, with a curious stance.

He'd chuckle and grin with a gleam in his eye,

For 'not now' was his favorite, no need to ask why.

When lovers would plan, with hearts all aflutter,

Waga would chime in, his voice like smooth butter:

"'Not now' is the best time," he'd say with a wink,

"For weddings are sweeter when on the brink."

He'd point to the stars, to the moon up above,

Claiming love's timing was part of its trove.

"No need for rush, nor haste in the air,

Let's savor the moment, with time to spare."

With wisdom disguised in a mischievous grin,

Waga's words carried weight, they'd sink right in.

For in the chaos of life's hurried race,

He found solace in 'not now's' gentle embrace.

So when bells rang out, and vows were recited,

Waga would smile, his heart ignited.

For in the end, as the sun gently set,

Love found its time, in a moment well met.