Older does mean slower,
with very few exceptions.
The average drops,
there’s more bad hops,
your eyes don’t pass inspections.
Corrections only last so long.
They seem to have your number.
Your contract’s running out this year
and you can’t swing the lumber.
The young guys doing laps
pass by like in a mascot race.
You shave each day now
just to hide grey stubble on your face.
You cringe to see the lineup card.
Once more, your name’s not there.
You’d happily sign autographs,
but kids don’t seem to care.
At last the roster is announced
to whoops and several cusses.
Perhaps a trade can still be made.
Or you’ll be riding buses.