---

The Ode to (My) Glorious Self

My joints creak a symphony, a morning’s gentle chime, A melody of “ouch!” that marks the passage of my time. They say I’m “old,” a kindly phrase, for one with rock-n-roll in soul, Still humming Stones and Led Zeppelin, losing all control.

My hands, they itch to paint and draw, a canvas calls my name, Though sometimes cramps make lines quite… unique, adding to the fame. And dancing? Oh, I’ll shake and sway, with gusto and with might, Just warn the youngsters, please stand back, I might just take a flight!

A worry-wort, that’s me, it’s true, a planner through and through, I’ve got contingencies for things that probably won’t ensue. “Did I lock the door?” “The stove is off?” My brain’s a busy bee, While simultaneously learning quantum physics, just for glee!

I work so hard, you see, it’s just the way I’m wired to be, Then crash upon the comfy couch, and dream of being free. Free from worries, free from pain, just rock and roll and art, A true old soul, with creaky knees, and a brand new learning start.

*** By the way, there is no book… yet!