A Cautionary Tale

Poem a Day is sorry he is dragged out.

It’s been a long week

An he is not as young

As he once was,

With seeming boundless energy.

Yes. In the olden days

Poem a Day worked long hours,

Partied long onto the night,

Went to work early the next morning.

Those days, not sadly, are gone.

Poem a Day was young and stupid then

Squandering more than the time

He did not know he could never get back.

He has no choice now.

Tired or not, aged or not,

Beat up over those many years or not,

With protesting muscle and bone,

He must push himself through,

And when the week is done,

If he is tired,

If he has trouble forming complete sentences,

Or moving from point a to point b,

It is not a reflection on you,

But the results of a misspent youth

Carried much too far into adulthood,

And the breakdown of a machine

Required to function

Past its prime functional viability

Resulting in failures meaning only

It is getting old.