The Mouse Poem by Bryan Taplits

The man once young-with thews so strong-
was now another man.
He walked and walked for the exercise he sought
and this "walking" was now his friend.
No more could he lift the heavy weights
Even though light they once would be,
His joints they hurt; his heart was burnt
And soon he saw:
Old age would give him no reprieve.
So in the parking lots he walked-
Traversing the concrete wheel stops-
And did this exercise as though he were young,
But also he knew in his heart
like a baker knows tarts-
That his last song had long ago
been sung.
As he winded his way
The young men he'd avoid-
Even young women and
even the boys,
For he knew now the goal in his life
was to avoid sturm and strife,
As he sought shadows and corners-
and other such borders-
To avoid the new thrusts of
young thoughtless youthful virile knives.
He remembered the days where he once
roamed free-
a predator of these plains to be believed,
but now he was imprisoned by age
(bound by a cage)
So muttered to himself
as he walked slowly on
"What will be, I guess, will be."