Oh those days are gone
no more spring in my footsteps
only snails crawl
Welcome Spring with your wind and blinding sand!
You, of course, always have the winning hand
This time, however, you're just out of luck
I''m welcoming you with things that go cluck
When you bend to count your big winner's pile
I'll just watch you with my crafty, sly smile
My little chick liked the rooster on sight
Careful with flowers for his peck's a bite!
“You’re not a spring chicken,”
My husband blurts out.
The truth in that statement’s
Beyond any doubt.
My running around’s
Surely taken its toll,
As Nature reminds me
I’m not in control.
For age has its limits
And mine’s reached a peak.
What I do in a day
Should spread over a week.
I try for it all
But my body’s refused.
As I conk on the couch,
There’s my husband – amused!
limerick
There was a spring chicken named Brewster.
He was the school’s number one booster,
but this spring he forward-sprang
from the girls’ room overhang.
Now he’s called - the naughty old rooster.