I'm not a pirate swahbuckler, sabre in my hand,
leaping on a privateer, shouting nautical commands.
I'm not an Olympian sprinter, piston like leg spans.
a decathlon competitor, carrying a torch...
a marathoner, if I raced twenty three miles,
I'd probably be lost.
I'm not a captain of industry, a trader on the floor,
A foreman boss, a politician extraordinaire,
in a wrestling competition, I'd be the first one tossed.
A universal philosopher, a sculptor,a cowboy too.
a zoo keeper, a lion tamer,a deep sea diver,
a Shakespearian hero long remembered,
a perfect Lochinvar in bed...
alas there are too few!
But carrying Kahlua's dishes:
Cat food dry and wet,
going down the stairs.
Pulling the dangling chains
of the Cuckoo Clock, flawlessly complete,
is derring-do, executed perfectly...
adroit, agile, neat.
Author: Roy Schoenberg - Bay Shore, New York.