Fragility - V2
Fragility's the curse of age;
fine-tremored hands, impendent rage,
slow shuffling feet, lethargic brain.
Beloved pleasures become strain;
to read each word, to turn each page.
You leave your room to find the cage
that once confined is safety's gauge.
Decaying bones grate one refrain,
The legs can't kick, nor fists engage,
you're pushing back the seventh stage
with parchment covered gnarled vein.
Dropped pills, steep bathtubs mock your pain.
Your memories alone assuage