My Faithful But Unwanted Friend Arthur. Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

Arthur, my friend, so close and true,
Though not the kind I would have drew.
Arthritis is his proper name,
A constant shadow, in this game.

He wakes with me, each dawning light,
A stiffness gripping, holding tight.
My fingers ache, my knees complain,
A dull, deep throb, a constant pain.

He lets me laugh, have sunny days,
Then steals them back in hazy ways.
A flare-up strikes, a sudden blow,
Red, swollen joints begin to glow.

He tires me out, beyond compare,
This endless battle, hard to bear.
My energy fades, a weary sigh,
Just getting through, is passing by.

He limits steps, and slows my pace,
Each movement planned, with careful grace.
Small tasks become a mountain high,
As Arthur watches, passing by.

He stays with me, year after year,
No cure to find, no end is clear.
A chronic bond, a heavy chain,
A faithful friend, but full of pain.

T.M.Solvang