The calendar tells me my age in years;
it is a poster advertising date.
A bit of rust now suddenly appears;
arthritic oxidation as of late.
My leather chair provides me comfort stay;
I close my eyes to saw a log or three.
A modicum of pain has gone away,
yet knees in achy throb say, Woe is me.
The philodendron in a turquoise vase;
the pace of life for plant in Hunter green.
Each day among the rats I run the race,
although at times my pace is not as keen.
The levelness extant approves the walk;
but climbing ladders urges knees to balk.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.10 seconds at 10:24am on Nov 21, 2024 via server WEBX2.