I'm running on five percent,
A frame that is worn and bent,
Should I expect less?
Eighty years of excess.
A price worth paying for the bodies rent.
My brain says 100 percent,
It screams at me every day,
I do crosswords, read books,
Write poems and cook,
But my brain ain't my body, OK?
So my mind may be running just fine,
But my body lives under a cloud;
Muscles, they ache,
Joints scroop as I take
Hunched steps with my daddy's old cane.
There are some advantages though,
From out my way people do go:
"You alright old chap?,
Let me help you with that".
And a door is held opened, I'm slow.
Whenever I go life's been good,
In fact there's just one thing I miss.
I'll leave you to decide
When I had my last ride,
Still memories are five hundred percent.
Comments
Scroop?...
I'm guessing that you are trying to relay the treacherous behavior of said joints. Those which will betray you when trying to put them to use. If that is your thought, I'm with you! The five hundred percent, of the last ride gave me pause, but I have my own thoughts on that. Pretty good stuff, ~ Geez.
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Hi Geez
I love old English words, Scroop, beautiful. I'm not sure where the last 500 came from but I thought I'd leave it there, food for thought. Thanks for your comment. Alex.
Hello Alex
A poignant piece that reflects the grace that accompanies aging which make it relatable and inspiring.
S.3 I think you mean "daddy's cane"
Thank you for sharing.
Hello Rula
Not much grace that comes with old age. Just the opposite I think, I hope. I try to be more and more curmudgeonly the older I get. It seems to amuse my grand daughters. Thanks for pointing out the 'daddies' error. I was sat at the table having a butty when I wrote that line and on the table in front of me was a jar of "Daddies Sauce". I'll correct it. Alex
Good write
A reflection on a life well lived. I enjoy reading your story and how even at 42, my body tries to tell me I'm getting older while the brain begs to differ. Well done.