Untitled Poem by Robert F. Cronin
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Untitled
Procrastinate
If we could rid
This world of its pestilence
If we could rid
The earth of its racial hatred
Oh, what a joy it would be,
Forever youthful.
I believe I would procrastinate
Remember, putting off until tomorrow
What you could do today,
Puts you in a world of your own,
No necessarily the best.
Thursday, January 2, 2003
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4/24/2024 9:17:00 AM # 1.0.0.1119
