Fandango

Fandango ? Alan Smith 2003

I don't really give a flying fandango
If I have to live never doing the tango
I move with the grace of a tumbling mango
Lopsidedly rolling around

But lately I've found my ankle won't work
My gait isn't smooth, but all jerky-jerk-jerk
I walk like a windmill that's going berserk
And threatens to crash to the ground

* * * * *

What really erks me is the loss of mobility
A sour foretaste of galloping senility
The weirdest sense of increasing fragility
Of snapping bones: disaster!

To any long walks I react no-no-no
And my stick's in hand wherever I go
I'm Jake the peg and I'm getting so slow
My aid is becoming my master

An impulse is growing inside of me
To leave the stick behind, and be free
And be proud of my part in the 'Cane Mutiny'
Who knows, I might even go faster.