It was nothing, at first
A little less energy
A little more illness
Just another normal
In a busy life
It transformed
To sickness
A parade of hospitals
And treatments
With time passing onward
Years were suspended
A kind of in-between
My body slowly returning
An awkward perennial
Trying to bloom again
But damage was done
Impossible to ignore
As I face
Future old age
Coming to visit already
The memory of stories
Of Aches and pains on rainy days
As I work my fingers back
To mobility
From their painful start
Looking at my hands
Is a reminder:
Of a body growing old
Faster than it should
Still pushing
To overcome ~ Caroline A. Slee
This was a beautiful and haunting poem. Thank you for sharing it.
Thank you so much, Lydia!