Checking (With)in

Of late I feel some tightness near my heart.
My pulse is up – is this when problems start?
Have I been cell-betrayed? Is there a mass?
Or maybe these are symptoms caused by gas.
I smoked too long; I’m growing short of breath –
I cough like some old codger facing death.
The fact is, I have never been this age,
and don’t possess a diagnostic gauge.

I exercise most mornings, and today
instead of contemplating poetry,
I focused on my body while I moved.
I’m ignorant but mindful, and the way
it went I didn’t glimpse mortality
just yet. When I was done I felt improved.

This entry was posted in Aging, Health, Poetry and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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