Compression is the symptom as I age –
a tendency in body and in mind.
There’s condensation in the way I gauge
surroundings, and the spacing in my spine.
I’m shrinking daily, sleeping shorter, kind
of like a turtle in my skin and neck.
Combating this, I stretch and fresh-opine.
I won’t surrender meekly to the wreck.


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

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