The Equilibrium Stick

It is the tool of my freedom’s refrain

It is a happy old man’s walking cane.

Which is essential to my mobility and strolling aide

Providing me access to walking in my life’s parade.

At a slow and at a safe, strolling pace,

Laden with grace and no loss of face.

Neither at a slow galop nor at a hurried run.

But at a rate, certain to get there when done.

When I arrive, I will be tired and do my best

To nurture up and be certain to get some rest

And then, after counting to ten

I’ll be ready to go forward again.

I lean on the cane, used as my magic equilibrium stick.

And with this support, I move forward, to do my shtik.*

Not at all caring or knowing

Where I am off to or going.