Graceless Aging

I intend to bemoan my fate.
You can't stop me.  My back
And shoulders are sore from
Lifting heavy boxes at work
Today.  My knees tired quickly
Of all of the squatting.  My wrists
Hurt first.  They hurt all the time,
Ruined by decades of bearing
Too much of my body's weight
On handlebars.  Long ago,
I would have shrugged off such
Pains and quickly moved on
To other exertions, a walk in
A park, a trot up some stairs,
But I've gotten too old.  I cannot
Move on.  When I'm done with
Work, I just sit.  I take naps,
And then wake up bemoaning
My fate.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 35 times
Written on 2022-11-20 at 20:05

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Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
When do you write your verse? Is that how you bemoan your fate, because if it is, you are also playing out your skill with words?
This is a poem that engenders sadness in my mind as I read it, but then I remember who is writing it, and there's the joy of reading those words - the way they are arranged, positioned and fashioned. Thank you for doing that.