I noticed first in my right shoulder,
not as strong, nor as limber,
no longer sporting the easy timbre
of youth, to tell the truth.
Then what aged was my back,
my lower back no longer was
supple and slack, rather going
stiff and refusing to tack.
I stubbed my toe, which curled
and won't straighten, now rubs
the tops of shoes, and ages
my appearance on beaches.
It's embarassing to meet
an old friend whose name
I can't recall, can't send
from my brain to my tongue.
And my fingers, when bent,
won't straghten, the ligaments
stuck in their sheaths unless
pushed into place, which makes
playing the piano verboten.
first published in AllPoetry.com
©2014 Bonnie Manion