On Tuesday last, before I left my place,
I iced my slowly-mending foot again.
I thought the wound was healing, but the pace
of my recovery was dismal-slow.
I had to be upright to wash my face,
to brush my teeth, to necessary-walk.
My age retards, but I could see a trace
of normal dorsum. Still unsure of when,
I took to making social plans, in case.

(Magic 9)