I start to age 10 minutes out of bed
More fragile than in the olden days but not yet dead
My son-in-law hovers behind me when I walk
In case I stumble as we talk
My daughter gave me a three-pronged cane
She concealed it in the quiche Lorraine
A stranger volunteers his seat to me
L4 and L5 express relief
A happy respite from their commander in chief
Others hold a door open with a ‘there you go.’
Refer to me as Papa
Make me aware that “The door button is on the left.”
I go home bereft.
This article appears in May 2018.
This fine poem is both witty and cleverly titled. Instead of a “there you go,” I say “way to go” to Michael Glassman for this poignant poem!
Mary Louise Kiernan Hagerdon
Hello Mary Louise:
Didn’t know how else to let you know that i appreciate your review.
also, good to see you and Marina at Montgomery.
Happy Poetry
michael