The aches and pains have become
as much a part of waking up
as the 5:30 AM bathroom run.
Though barely do I hobble.
The now-constant catch and click
of tendons in my fingers
happened overnight, I’m almost sure.
Just like the gimp in my hip
and the twinge everywhere I hinge.
They’re the balance due, the piper’s pay,
the cost of a short, cerebral body
playing a taller, active life.
You can only toss yourself down
that flight of stairs so many times.
I just never figured it’d be my back
that stabbed me in my back.
When everything hurts enough to wake me up, I am drawn to pick up the pen and wax poetic on the frailties that can come with growing older. By the way, that pen picking up? Threw out my back…