Is sitting still so often. I loathe it with something rather akin to the proverbial passion. My roommate must think me insane because I so often leap to my feet to pace the room as I read.
Here's a tiny poem that popped into my head just now:
As sitting still progresses,
My mind begins to fade.
As my cerebrum deliquesces,
Perusing books begins to jade.
Unfortunately, since I've never taken a poetry class, I don't know what (if any) specific term is used to describe this type of "poem" (a bit ostentatious sounding, that description, now that I write it). Perhaps I'll call it an acrostic, and pretend that the letters "AMAP" spell out "SOS" in some unidentified foreign language.