.4. All Wound Up Poem by David Threadgold
.4. All Wound Up
My body clock is running fast
Old bones have started creaking
Eyesight isn’t what it was
I spend hour’s glasses seeking
The stiffness in my fingers
Don’t let me tie my laces
Cups of tea don’t hit the spot
But land in different places
Legs don’t like to walk far
The creaking make folk stare
Pain shoots up my backbone
I have to take a chair
I’ve tried to stop fast running
But no cure I am finding
Once your main spring comes unwound
There no point in rewinding
© 2008 David Threadgold
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4/16/2024 1:55:36 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I'm with you on this one David, one needs to oil the cogs, perhaps that's the key. Instead of an old clock we become an old crock. Sad isn't it. Ha! Lovely piece. Love and hugs Ernestine XXX