I count my unspent tomorrows

As would a miser his precious hoard.

I treasure each one, assay its worth,

Spend frugally, then store the rest.

Whose legacy am I preserving?

My heirs will have no claim

On such squirelled time.

Neither will I. So I might as well

Spend it while I can.

Death offers a poor rate of exchange.

21.11.16