The aging rock star

Sat 

His darling groupie 

Got old and fat 

His wrists would still roll around beating out

A drummer’s sound

The band went flat

The time met up with

No regard

Oh how old we get

With or without

Permission, yet

The aging rock star

Sent his wife a text

I’ll be back when the life of me

Is left

On a wooden stage

Lit with lights

Exposing innocent

Hidden delicious delights.