Count to four and tell me when

I’ll move my sleeping giant then

You can live where it is placed

In my rocky mountain base


Eight to six I'm made to run

In winter I don't see the sun

From bed, to car, to parking-lot

I start to speak but hold no thought


I drink to rest and calm my quiet

And coffee shapes my morning diet

The day proceeds and then repeats

Until my body's made antique


Break a leg and count to three

I'll follow you, you'll follow me

We'll build our rage and then release

and contemplate our masterpiece


Soon I’ll free my full restraint

And learn to sing or write or paint

A promise I may not possess

Tomorrow tells me more or less


Twenty-Five and almost blind

Sixty-Eight and out of time

Seventeen and full of pride

Thirty-two and dignified