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Fine Whine
I'm working on a little project, it's not really important what it is, but it seems I'm halfway through it with only half the required parts. Now it's not a very complicated thing so I can't blame this foul up on math. But in these days of high priced diesel it's not fun making twice as many trips to the store to finish things, even though I'm only doing half as much as I used to do anyway.
Anyway, this got me to rolling around all night, yelling at myself for being stupid. About 3 AM I resolved it all in a poem that I thought I'd share with you all....
FINE WHINE
One day my old back was aching.
I slid slowly into my chair.
And my aches got me to thinking,
Oh my God, now this isn't fair .
I've worked every day of my life
With never a moment to spare.
But all I've got is these wrinkles,
No memory, sore bones, and grey hair.
But then while whining and napping,
Enjoying the beautiful day,
It dawned on me that I was blessed
If I looked in a different way.
For though my eyes are failing me,
They're better for seeing what's true.
And those ears that don't hear so well,
Listen more than they used to do.
Even my nose, while losing it's edge,
Is better for smelling a rat.
My body's not failing, it's tuning,
That thing that lives under my hat.
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