My old '72 had charms and quirks,
But from time to time it did not work.
Joe was the one I always called—
His skill was sharp, though timing stalled.

 

He’d promise Tuesday, I’d mark next week,
His clock ran loose, his tone was meek.
Still, I liked the way he worked—
Though on time wasn’t where Joe perked.

 

Joe was Joe, and I chose to see
What mattered most was harmony.
I met the world the way it was,
And found my peace without applause.

 

I'd call him right when he first said,
"Joe, where’s my car!?"—though in my head,
I’d added days to dodge the sting—
But still played out the whole routine.

 

He’d re-promise with a sorry tone,
And I’d act miffed, but not full-blown.
Just disappointed—kind and polite—
While knowing that I’d planned it right.

 

Joe was Joe, and I chose to see
What mattered most was harmony.
I met the world the way it was,
And found my peace without applause.

 

To try to change him would surely fail—
So I found a way we’d both prevail.
He charged me fair, he fixed things well—
And so I learned where grace could dwell.

 

No war with time, no stern crusade,
Just quiet tweaks that softly played.
Joe stayed Joe, with all his ways—
And I just smiled through his delays.

 

Joe was Joe, and I chose to see
What mattered most was harmony.
I met the world the way it was,
And found my peace without applause.