The Ceroc Years - Number Seven

He Wishes for the Clothes of Youth

Were I not burdened by ev’ry year,
But blessed with nimble and twinkling feet,
The black and the white, dancing footgear
Of taste, enlaced, chic and upbeat,
I would shed the years before your face;
But I, being old, have only these clothes;

I have spread my clothes around the place;
Step lightly, in case you break all my toes.