The torment is indescribable,
Physically hard to endure.
And to take it I may not be able,
What causes it, I'm not sure.
Persistent is the nagging pain,
Like a vice grip set on the knee.
It goes away then comes again,
It's called 'water on the knee'.
There's some relief from pills
But always temporary.
This aging form suffers ills
Like this throbbing pain in the knee.
The Doctor nods and I say 'Ahh! '
And asked what I did yesterday.
I said I danced and did some Zumba-
Got this swollen knee today.
A machine that's old will break down,
And me, I have rusty spare parts.
Old age is a status virtually known
To be lived by those brave of heart. (Ouch!)
Cynthia Buhain-Baello~~~05.01.15
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem