To The Last

Although I take great pleasure in the art
Of swordsmanship, and relish my time spent
With rapier in hand, within my heart
I know that I'm not likely to present
A dashing figure with a flashing blade.
I'm too late come to play, far past my prime.
My back, my creaking knees, I'm quite dismayed
To face the fact I'm fencing most with time.
A few years yet remain till I admit
My aching bones no further can go on.
But while I can, I'm resolved not to quit
Until my last ability is gone.
My glory may be fleeting. Ah, but then
I'll do my finest fencing with my pen.