May my frosted fingers warn you

As I write this lonesome letter

Through the cobwebs may my I reach you

When from this life I've passed to better.

Opportunities will come and go

And tantalize your soul

While offering you flashing lights

And mountains high of gold

But be forewarned and never fall
May greed always escape you

For those you lift along your way
May be the same who break you.

-Victor Tinsdale