It's of my youth, of which I sing,
When I was a ninety eight pound weakling.
They'd tie some string on me, so tight,
And made me soar, just like a kite.
If I stood sideways, they'd not see me,
I looked like a limb, from off a tree.
Well the years flew by, at an alarming rate,
And I seem to have put on some weight.
And not just me, it's plain to see,
Most of my friends gained weight like me.
I guess that's the downside to being a man,
To be skinny again, would be so grand.
(8/14/11-Alton Texas)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem