Popping Knuckles

         Popping Knuckles

When I was a young lad
My hair was so red it was a fiery sight
Running through ballfields was daily delight
Dinner was spaghetti every third night
I'd pop my knuckles before sitting to write

When I was a young man
The gel in my hair made my hairstyle tight
My knees never buckled before any fight
Corn-on-the-cob didn't defeat my overbite
And I'd pop my knuckles before I would write

Now that I'm an old man
My wispy hair wanders more towards white
Arthritis robs my hands of their might
Scoliosis bends me to a more humble height
But thoughts of dying are no longer a fright
So I pop two aspirin and sit down to write