Oh it's down in my bones I feel
I'm not the man I used to be
Where is that boy that ran about
And lived a life full of energy
Yet now I am but a pale visage
I find it hard to walk down the street
But I still love life it is so sweet
I would feel grateful in my bones
But they moan a lot when I walk
And I seem to groan as I talk
With my walking stick in right hand
I'm shorter too sinking in quick sand
Or that is how it seems to me
Wishing for life as it used to be
Image found at www.shutterstock.com
Your poem really spoke to me, Robin! Getting older is not easy.
ReplyDeleteIt's very annoying, isn't it? Plenty of youthful vigour left on the inside, but ...
ReplyDeleteEggs get old? huh. Go figure.
ReplyDeleteThis (almost) septuagenarian relates, especially to the moanwalks. salute.
Ageing is inevitable....our bodies let us down ...They say there are good bits to ageing. I have not yet discovered any.
ReplyDeleteI feel the aches and pains sometimes myself, but unlike the narrator, wouldn't want to go back to life as it was. Too much pain along the way to relive again. No thanks.
ReplyDeleteYesterday I saw art that illustrated the saying "When I look in the mirror, I think ... THIS CAN'T BE RIGHT!" I laughed aloud at the irony of it!
ReplyDeleteIt is very disconcerting, isn't it? In our thoughts, we are forever the wild and energetic teenagers we remember being. But the flesh and bones tell a different story, one full of aches.
ReplyDeleteI join you in lamenting the downside of maturity. Both of my hips have been replaced, hoping they last as long as I do. Cheers.
ReplyDeleteI remember talking to my mother in law about her youthful vigor and she laughed, saying I should have seen her when she was young, She was much bouncier then. But time and physics does place limits on things. I can feel a little of their claim on me already.
ReplyDeleteThis poem is my truth. Wonderful, Robin!
ReplyDeleteas they say, youth is wasted on the young ~
ReplyDelete