A few weeks ago I faced a harsh truth,
River-rides on the tube must be left to the youth.
Lest I suffer a wrenched neck or a displaced shoulder,
Or incur a case of vertigo now that I’m older.
Another nevermore activity of the prohibited kind,
Like cartwheels and somersaults, long left behind.
Not a knee or a hip have I yet to surrender,
But a crash on a skateboard could render a member.
Wheels with ball-bearings entail balance and stability,
So I abandon blades and scooters with grace and humility.
Do I dare try to snow-shoe or ski the local trail,
Pull on spiked boots and poles to hike down for the mail?
I’m satisfied never having climbed the face of a wall,
No regrets I never mastered gymnastics or sports with a ball.
Now a senior, must I stroll, meander, nothing faster than a lope?
One last thing, a 5K marathon, I won’t resign hope.
Before 70 I’m determined to boast, “Yes, I ran.”
Perhaps I should wait for next week’s bone scan.
All in all I’m grateful to be an ager who functions,
Nevermore to bemoan the limits of this life-junction.