My head’s okay although I took a fall,
misstepping off a curb the other day.
A little trip, and now the wounds appall
(my head’s okay).

My palms and knees and face wear an array
of bruises; both my shoulders ache; I haul
my form around surrounded by dismay.

But I insist on walking after sprawl.
I will not let my age my stride betray.
I’m feeling old and sore but, after all,
my head’s okay.

(Roundel)