The Prodigy

There once was a young man who from date of birth

Showed promise of one day achieving great worth.

His parents sure thought so, his teachers did too--

He’d really be something when upwards he grew.

It might be in science, or maybe the arts

He wouldn’t end up like the other old farts.

And so all and sundry dandled him on one knee

And pronounced him a wonder—a child prodigy.

He studied and studied, earned prizes galore,

And on every exam got a curve-busting score.

But somewhere and somehow he wandered astray

And was lost to wool-gathering off well-trod ways.

He’d worry each thing while hours flew by

‘til each thing succumbed ‘neath his gimlet-like eye.

He’s now quite mature, though his prospects have dimmed

And he takes on new projects with faltering vim.

So sometimes his friends feel compelled to remind him—

He has a great future; it’s somewhere behind him.