It’s Either a Misprint or a Blueprint
I’ve never been one who just takes a hint
I’ve only been able to see if I squint
Now I’m middle-aged, the whole world’s gone fine print
My rose-colored glasses have fast lost their tint
Turned into reading glasses through which I see with a glint
That life is a long game yet everyone sprints
By hook or by crook to make them a mint
Forgetting our time here is merely a stint
The day will come soon when we’ll be judged by dint
Of all whom we’ve touched, not our carbon footprint
