Brown, Sticky, and Fun

I remember a game

I played when I was childish

Where up I’d pick a fancy stick

And proceed to go quite wildish.

It would be, at the same time,

A lightsaber, a gun,

A steering wheel, banana peel,

A ticket: Admit One.

I could walk around the woods

With some tree’s lifeless limb

And make of a day of naught but play,

Walking and swinging him.

Now I’m big and childish

But have less inclination

To go outside and take a ride

On my imagination.

Today I pray to everything

That before I’m old and sick

I’ll meet just five folks more alive

Than my beloved stick.