Worn-out Parts

In my ache there is a back,
That rises up to hurt.
And a head that looks on,
Not very much alert.

There's a squeaking in the joints,
Like they're running out of oil.
All brought about just yesterday,
By long, hard toil.

I feel a muscle spasm,
Convincing me...of course.
That it's the muscles pulling,
Like in a charley horse.

Both ears are reaching outward,
Hanging like two bags.
One is aching this time,
The other missed...it brags.

Pain creeps up each leg,
In patterns often seen.
The body has worn-out parts,
Like any other machine.


E.P. 1908 - 1989