Poetry

Poem: Walkers With Tennis Balls

Growing older

makes you accept

change,

circumstances

beyond your control.

 

Nursing homes,

microwave meals,

arthritic fingers,

feet soaked in salts,

walkers

with tennis balls.

 

It makes you adapt,

recognize

the lasting things,

remember

the missing things.

 

Doctor visits,

rising co-pays,

bunions on both

feet, murmurs

of the heart,

on the john

way too long.

 

Growing older

humbles you,

makes you accept

your fate, head

and hands that shake.

 

Choose a date,

time and place,

pay the burial fee,

make peace with the

creator,

take a number

and wait

your turn.

Freelance writer, poet, yogi and photographer from Santa Barbara, California. I write and take pictures about a variety of topics, from my early childhood in Philadelphia, to my years as a family therapist, and finally to my soul-searching years in California. The things that move me may have a humorous or serious content or both. Either way, I hope my poetry, pictures and stories resonate with you.

3 comments on “Poem: Walkers With Tennis Balls

  1. Apparently sad but deeply full of awareness and wisdom

    • Just one of the many realities. Fighting it doesn’t work very well. Trying to stay young is futile. 🙏🏻

      • Inevitable can’t be fought but certainly it can be acknowledged accepted and lived through😎

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