No longer ‘fit as a fiddle’,
No longer in its prime;
Body parts are wearing out,
Yes…marches on…does time!

The sands have shifted,
Truth be told;
We’ve ‘gone to pot'…in other words,
Actually, we’ve just grown old.

A shadow of our former selves,
We’re not what we used to be;
This is a fact we’ve tried to hide,
From this truth…we can no longer flee.

What happened to your old car,
When a new paint job didn’t do the trick;
Into the garage…you took it,
Something just had to be fixed!

“MAINTENANCE” is the key word,
Now, it must be done all the time;
These things just can’t be put off,
If…out of disrepair…you would climb!

A new fan-belt is needed here,
And, the timing has gone way off;
If not fixed…you’ll wheeze and sputter,
Yes…and you’ll do more than just cough!

“MAINTENANCE”…it now becomes a race,
Will old age or ‘you’ win?
Hey…there’s a real battle here,
Without “MAINTENANCE”…the future’s grim.

So, take the body in for repairs,
It’s a fact…we all must face;
Everybody needs a helping hand,
We can ‘try’ to win this race!

********

December 19, 2004

Aimee Love
(LHG)