That Elderly Aircraft Mechanic's Lament

Gather thy nuts and bolts while ye may
For as the years grow colder
The fingers lack flex and closure
While the worms gnaw away inside

Until a husk of yourself is all that is left
An eggshell thin and fragile
Which would crack at the slightest shamble
Unable to bend and pick the FOD upon the ground

To grasp and pull upon that expensive wrench

Feels as a knife edge upon the fingers

A conundrum and conflict of a sort

For your skin turned to thick leather years ago

Too poor to quit

Too old to rehire

Is this that that awaits us

As we yearn to retire?

The Union stole your pension

The recession ate your 401K

Family emergencies sucked those savings

So you go in again every single day

Grind the corrosion

Flush patch the flaw

R&R a constant speed prop

Rig those flight controls

~A pause to sign your life away~

Account for all your many tools

Wipe down and slip into shadowed trays

Receive your Charles Taylor award

And keep on going until you can't

-FDR30JUN2021