I have rusted, worn out busted legs from years of work. My center, heart keeps moving round and round. My squeaky-sound body’s favorite place to be is in the kitchen, making treats for my loved ones to eat. Some days I might taste the batter as it splatters on my shaky hands, then I have to climb ladder after ladder of bubbles. After I clean up, the warmth of the sun comes in reminding me that I am almost done, I know the fun has come undone. As I watch my limited, knitted life around me finally slow down, all others I have known are dropping too. Now I realize what it is like to be in their stopping shoes. But do not fret young reader, for when my time comes I’ll bet you will remember my life with you. Don't worry I will miss you too.