It's of my youth, of which I sing, 
When I was a ninety eight pound weakling.
They'd tie some string on me, so tight, 
And made me soar, just like a kite.
If I stood sideways, they'd not see me, 
I looked like a limb, from off a tree.
Well the years flew by, at an alarming rate, 
And I seem to have put on some weight.
And not just me, it's plain to see, 
Most of my friends gained weight like me.
I guess that's the downside to being a man, 
To be skinny again, would be so grand.
(8/14/11-Alton Texas)                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem