Life, for everyone, has daily duties,
To eat up and clean up and pay the bills.
And, in passing, observe the small beauties,
Ocean, animals, babes, and golden hills.
I’m tired of chasing Love and the stage,
And proud of my perfectly hard boiled egg.
My back is too weak for the days of rage,
And I can’t march far on this bad left leg.
No man wants to see this old bodkin bared,
Hell! Even I don’t desire to see the sags.
But there’s little adventure I haven’t dared,
Memories live in the wrinkles and bags.
So, drink good tea as we rock on the porch.
And just be strong enough to pass the torch.