I can no longer run,
my knees don’t allow it,
if I ignore them,
heedless,
they knock me down.
Callouses grow in the strangest places,
on the bottom of my toe,
near the ever-larger bunyon
and the curving hammer-toe,
I sometimes stare at my own hands,
with their brown age spots
and rivers of veins,
A walk in the park is exercise,
I enjoy a mile or two.
I want to age, gracefully,
enjoying the time I’m given,
My experience makes me who I am,
each day a gift from heaven,
My life is ages, and stages of trials,
with twists and turns unforeseen,
The beauty of life is appreciated,
the more age intervenes.
cfblack 7-20-2016
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