Come What May

He rises in the morning;
his wife says he was snoring;
coffee he’ll be pouring
	into the cup 
	so he may sup.
He looks upon the day
and wonders what may
befall him at play --
	hitting the putt
	into the cup?
Or he stands a chance
to catch a sideways glance
from those who prance --
	an egocentric nut
	who still can’t putt
so concludes his wife each day.
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