In ten years, you'll be near forty, and
a poet, you will not.
They peak before they're thirty. They
burn up the fuel they've got,
But the writing keeps you running.
You'll need to keep it strong,
Because I've seen you go with out it.
You collapse. It don't take long.
I've set you up to shift your focus, to
be the man that you once wished.
The poems that I've written have made
you a novelist.
So don't change, and no excuses. Don't
tell me you're snakebitten.
I've left you notes for several books;
I want to see them written.
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