(Villanelle)

WHEN I COUNT UP
by John T. Baker
When I count up I find I'm old,
With time about to pass me by . . .
But I've more tales that must be told.

No longer brash and far from bold,
Now more a drone than butterfly . . .
When I count up I find I'm old.

Abandoned is my quest for gold,  
The well at last is running dry . . .
But I've more tales that must be told.

What once we bought is now not sold,
What then was truth is now a lie . . .
When I count up I find I'm old.

The heat of youth has turned to cold,
My sometime song's become a sigh . . .
But I've more tales that must be told.

My epitaph's not yet inscrolled,
I still can laugh . . . I will not cry . . .
When I count up I find I'm old . . .
But I've more tales that must be told.