If you slow to a shuffle,
And that’s your response
To the calendar’s whir,
Then age has become the saboteur
Of the spring in your step,
The gleam in your eye,
A shave every day,
And having a beer
And chili and spice,
Thinking your stomach’s
Too finicky now,
And you should eschew
Both Tabasco and brew.
If so, you’ve agreed to
The Great Giving In,
Like saying to age…
Come in, come on in.
And like water it will…
And trickle until
It’s wrinkled your parts.