Spending

I sometimes think there's only so much time
To do what I desire. Yes, it's true,
But just how true? I waste some hours in rhyme;
They are forever gone. Should I then rue
Such frivolous, unserious pursuits?
Or should I choose them, just to prove the point
That chosen leisure bears more joyful fruits
Than overearnestness. Would that anoint
Those hours otherwise implied a waste
With greater value in the public eye?
Or would the appetite, from such a taste
Of leisure time, grow larger, and defy
All later hope of pruning? Either way
There's only so much time inside a day.