I planned to read a book or two,

Go to the gym and clean my room,

Work on my art and play kazoo,

Smell the flower’s sweet perfume,

I had resolved then to reflect,

On my life and e’vry act,

And find some newfound self-respect,

— As a matter of fact,

I mapped out to travel more,

Trek down every trail and track,

And open all mine loc’ked doors,

Never fooling to look back.

Yet now I paused to take a peek,

At the old days I’d left behind,

Thinking I had reached new peaks,

And what then should I find?

But days that look a lot like these,

The same old books, and wrinkly knees,

The same old junk and lousy keys,

And planter pots filled w’th crusty lees,

I gazed back on my ample rear,

Remembering all my newfound fears,

And resolved with feigned but faithful cheer:

That 2020 would be my year.