My giddyup has gotten up and gone
and I am just a plodding, sway-backed nag
that’s heading for the glue pots not a race.
My race is run. I need my heating pad.
It isn’t that I’m old exactly. It
is just that I am feeling old today.
Tomorrow I’ll be eight again and be
the conqueror of worlds and capable
of anything and everything. You’ll see.
But now I need to rest these ancient bones.
I know. I know. I’m pitiful. I know.
But yesterday. You should have seen me. Then
there wasn’t anything I couldn’t do.
But that was yesterday and not today.