Agility Gone
Never again shall I,
Leap from slumber as the Buck.
My divan is neither comfy,
Nor my bones free from pain.
The few short moments I,
Have reclined within the cot.
Left stiffened every tiny joint,
Paralysis like the rigor mortis holds.
Wizened in my only youth,
And caught short before my time.
The days cannot be ever free,
As once I’d ran to you.
Now I understand the clues,
I’d heard in days of my youth.
The old folk calling out in pain,
As they struggled to rise at dawn.
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