DiminishedI stare out at the ocean, knowing I'm not who
I used to be. If she would like to take a walk,
I will, and I will be all right, but, should she
Say she wants to struggle though the surf,
The brushy bluffs, for hours, as I did back
When, I'll tell her no. I lack the strength to do
That now. I look at her. She pats my head.
She knows that I'm no longer strong, and
Seems okay with that. Still, I am slightly
Sad. I'd rather not be ancient, not a feeble
Shadow of myself, when she is everything to me,
But I'm not sure what can be done. She's ready.
We will stroll the beach, and, should some sort
Of feat of derring-do be called for while we're
On it, I will have my phone, and I will find
Someone to call.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 109 times
Written on 2019-06-08 at 19:25
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