Misery Loves Company

I'm on the couch. I'm rubbing my hip. It hurts
To walk from here to anywhere, and, as you might
Expect, I'm in a pretty crappy mood. I've never
Given any thought to growing old. Who does?
Do you? Be honest; you are young and strong.
Have you imagined that might change? Oh, sure,
I felt the slow decay. I ceased to have the urge
To run. I panted after climbing stairs, but,
For the most part, what I'd done I still could do
With some exertion...until very recently. Now,
Suddenly, I'm old and feeble. I can't say,
“Oh, this will change.” I've found the step stones
To my grave, and, though my journey's length
Is not decided, my direction is. I won't play
Baseball in the park. I won't go hiking in
The mountains. I will lay here on the couch
In terror, not so much of death. When it arrives,
The story ends. What I fear is moving toward
It, aching, far from you.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 59 times
Written on 2017-12-14 at 02:01

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Ashe The PoetBay support member heart!
A very strong poem, Lawrence. We all know we are going to get old, but we didn't know it would be this soon!

jenks The PoetBay support member heart!
Very good Larry.
I call it the lessening...when you realise you are winding down, not up any more.
quite a moment aint it?

one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
Very good and strong poem.