I may have been a child once
I cannot recall young legs,
bright cheeks, smooth skin –
mirror reflects truth, aged
tired eyes, silver strands
of hair no longer dark brown
always string-straight, never
held a curl after sleeping in
pink sponge rollers that hurt.
Bounding upstairs laughing
back then, replaced sore knees
hand on railing steady pace
walking to get mail, why do
they call it snail – although
gait is no longer a trot, more
like an old mare resting under
apple tree, cloudy skies rob light
cloudy eyes search for drops.
Lost my keys, more cannot
find – was I looking for wallet,
walk back to the kitchen, oh yes
keys on the counter, back to chair
think about kids grown, how long
since I was full of energy, youth?
