It was a few short years ago That I was but a lad, Full of indecision, Strong for every fad; More for play than working, Headstrong, and erratic; Not much for the serious, I.Q. largely static; A hole in every pocket– My chief asset a smile; Possessed of lots of promise- But no aplomb, or style. Yet can I say “Those Good Old Days?” No. In all honesty, This portrait of the little boy Still fits the present me.