Dropping my burden at the door...

I’ve seen better days.
Some days are better than others.
Some days the worn out joints don’t hurt so much,
Some days the inflexibility of fingers and knees
Aren’t as obvious. Some days I can even stand for a long while
Without some bloody part of me giving way.

Those are good days. On bad days everything hurts,
Whether it is arthritic or not. I think the other bits
Just come out in sympathy.

I’ve known better days.
Some days I would just run,
Not to get anywhere in a hurry, not to get away,
But just because I could. Walking along aimlessly,
My mind lost in daydreams, suddenly I would run,
As if I thought that way I could start to fly.

Yes, I ran, and jumped, and climbed,
Fell off horses and bounced off anything rigid and uptight
That got in my reckless way. And the old folks would smile
And say, ``you think you’re bulletproof now,
But you’ll pay for it when you’re old like us.”

I don’t run any more. My knees would give out and down I’d go,
Just like I’ve pitched down the stairs a few times.
I can’t even trust my own knees damn it.

So I know what burden I’ll gladly drop at the gatehouse.
It’s a big bundle of creaky old bones called My Osteo.
Good riddance. On the Serpent Road I want to run
Just because I can.