Mark Sandman once sang of a cure for pain;
Then prednisone rose singing through my veins.
Decrepitude, age, inflammation fade;
The failing flesh stands startled and remade.

From gravity’s old grip, both flesh and mind
Rise, sloughing off the years I dragged behind.
Sing, O Muse! I vault, caper, shout, and roll,
While borrowed fire goes roaring through my soul.

I crow with Peter Pan, afloat and free;
The earth below has lost its claim on me!
To pause the clock, to scorn the costs, I cry:
No matter if I never sleep—I fly!

But time returns; the buried ache resumes;
The god departs, and age reclaims its rooms.