Relic

I am a wax Christmas candle left to melt out in the sun
Goofy guy with macro hair and thigh high Adidas shorts
I never once then had to slow down wherever I would run
But nowadays I’m crawling;  reflux gags and nasal snorts

I am a Butterball turkey stuffed into a pair of waffle Nikes
Wrapped in Ace bandages basting in some smelly ointment
My once suave silk skin these day sprouts a forest of spikes
And this shag-carpet back begs chiropractic appointment

I am a no longer treasured trinket, cigar box souvenir
Stored now in a vacant closet beside baseball, glove, and bat
My once un-containable smile sedately snarls into sneer
And where rippled muscle reigned supreme, now loiters layered fat

I am a toy top    spinning   before school;  first grade
Beginning   Whirling madly with all the joy of discovery
Now nilly -willy wobbling  Inertia slacks and slowly fades
Wanting re-strung, re- flung  Ten small steps to recovery

I am a handcrafted relic flint, rescued from a farmer’s plow
A tank-topped teenaged tuff on a kamikaze Kawasaki
Archived and guarded on a shelf to show to a future now
Who can measure a craftsman’s skill?  Ancient contemporary.