the aging ballet
i just wish my body wasnt so mean-
when the mind still thinks its eighteen.
i cant bend or reach far any more-
and its so much harder to get off the floor.
putting on my shoes and socks gives me the blues-
and the bags under my eyes is luggage i didnt choose.
my ears and nose hairs are growing long-
but, the hair on top of my head is gone.
my skin is starting to look like a prune-
and my bum keeps whistling a tune.
my two legs look like a cities road map-
and in the afternoons, im looking at taking a nap.
"with age comes great wisdom" they always say-
now, thats the right tonic for times dancing, ballet.
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