I Beg Pardon

When my race is run and done And I reminisce why I stun Doubting Thomases who to my head point a gun Expecting my soul to project fear From my eyes to pour a tear As I utter ‘Thank you, my dear’ Ripe quaint age smiling Memories from my pate swirling Satisfaction from my bosom brimming from floor to my ceiling I’d slump to my knees Gratitude seizing keys Snapping open doors to freedom to please My Creator Who appointed me knowledge disseminator An avid ignorance interrogator I’d smile awhile Pray at length for a while Promoting a sane lifestyle Denoting gratitude In remnants of the fortitude Sunk deep into the attitude I ought to cultivate In every pore of my soul to fete Virtues and the denial of vices as I celebrate Opportunities granted to appreciate bounties Teeming with certainties Encountered in my late seventies If I should blush Nurturing no crush Which I’d gladly flush To usher in the penultimate era That would prevent a camera From snapping selfies of mascara That disfigures my natural looks To invite unscrupulous spooks From inserting plastic surgery hooks I deride As forward I stride To prevent my pride From surging forth Feeling cocky that sloth No longer invades and pervades the fabric of the cloth I don With abandon As I beg for my bae’s pardon.