Walking Poem by elysabeth faslund

Every year, bout
This time of day,
On New Year's
Eve....

He'd make his
Slow way round
The park, rain, or
Snow...

Each year I watched,
Steps gettin slower,
More careful, breaks
For breaths...

One day, I went out
To him, smiled,
Said, 'Why do you
Walk nine

Times around this
Park, every New Year's
Eve? Can I help you
With something? '

'Little lady, I was born
In aught 9, so every
Year, nine times. Only
Got one walk left.'

And, you know what I
Know. When the old
Get a notion in their
Head....

Seems like walking
Kept him walking...
Nine times round
That park...