I am old, though
I still cling to chains,
wires that hold this old bridge together  
but one day the bridge, and I  
will fall into the water, and
not see the sun again    
I am old, but still tight,
though I no longer shine  
chemistry’s master is time
to me an illusion, but those
who look at me are not fooled  
I am old, and when I begin to unwind,
any unknown calibrated moment,
will I make graceful grunts
or squeal
like a locomotive’s brakes
piercing eardrums of those
who did not know I was there
until I was twisted off  
I am old, and one day
in your rusting future  
I will fall into the water,
and not see the sun again