When I was young, I used the stairs; I’d jump and run without no cares, I’d get up some. Then I found, I slipped or was knocked to the ground, So, I kept trying, years passed by, I’d run upstairs and try to fly, And when, each time, I reached the stair, That wobbled, I was knocked from there, I grabbed onto the rails some, I tried a lot, but scratched my bum. Many times I’m knocked out good, And then I’d wake, and, yes, I would, try again, more years went by And bruised also, I’d try and try.
Well, now, I need to rest, I think I tried my best, But some, I think, don’t have a lot, Of luck to climb these stairs, I got the body now both tired and broke, And when I move, it hurts. I poked my stiff joints, and they pull now, And many friends say, “Try somehow, And keep it up with broken bones, With years of tired, depressed moans.”I look up at them by and by, And that is when I start to cry.