Old worn body on the bench
alas no longer a young wrench
but a sedate gramma to boot
sometimes doesn't give a hoot
however in the massage room
I cannot shut the world's gloom
My thoughts twirl and whirl
from oldhood to a young girl
jumbled - mumbled oddball twists
while the masseur is on my wrists
If I could for once fully relax
stop my thoughts in their tracks
I would get the massage's message
that would be its eloquent passage.
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