Wednesday, September 29, 2004

How It Can Be

He shows no sign of infirmity
His stick an umbrella
Furled neat, contained
His casual lean belies his need
To rest his knees, limbs
Withered by time but not disease

His nodding head affirms
Agrees with pause for thought
Wisdom bought by years
Serenity by tears
Teeth remaining all his own
His crowning glory shines
White and clean in morning light

Sleep at night easy as breath
Released, he still delights
In every taste
He rides a bike uphill
Shows off for fun sometimes
His skill to younger men,
Competing for their girls
Many battles won, but one
Yet undecided, his last
Determination simply
Not to be surprised

DFRW 5th April 2004


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