My strides no longer purposeful
These days my steps are slow
I don't stray far from home these days
In case my Ankles go
Where once I walked for many miles
And rarely paused to rest
These days I stroll passed gates and styles
And feel my legs are stressed
I used to walk on cobbled streets
But now I walk with canes
I rest on local council seats
Whilst staring at the drains
My back has gone, my legs are weak
It cannot be ignored
No more the daily walk and run
Unless I'm feeling bored
And while I sit, the hair still grows
Bursting through my ears and nose
And then I soil my underclothes
I guess that's just how old age goes!
Note; This is just a rhyme, not a life experience, well, not just yet I hope.
Phil
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem