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“You’re a putter-offer!” my father would say,
as I frittered my youthful potential away.

A charge I would vigorously deny,
but do so no longer, as time rolls by.

My lack of relish for the iron when hot
has circumscribed my eventual lot.

My whole life has been ruled by this guiding text:
never do today what can be done the next.

I used to have dreams, high aspiration;
but no chance, due to procrastination.

You delay, you defer, and play games with time.
You win some, you lose some; you feel it’s no crime.

Then you realize, when it’s far too late,
you cannot evade time’s final checkmate.

In crabbed old age, you discover the truth;
withheld from you, in the days of your youth.

This truth is simple, so let it be said:
life is short, and you’re a long time dead.