DietmarApril2022
MY FIRST SIGN OF OLD AGE
She got up in the underground
To offer smilingly me her seat
So strange this event may sound
It knocked me off my feet
Was it not only yesterday
I offered it to the lady with the walking stick?
Bent and frail, her hair ash grey
So I told the well-meaning chick
I'd prefer to stand, clutching to the bar
Though my knees were weak, arthritic
My bones and muscles ached, a young man’s au-revoir
I was too proud to admit of being paralytic
Next time I’ll take the underground, the bus
I swear I will accept and sit
Not play the youthful man and all that fuss
But these teenies, young and fit
Stare at their phones, enjoy their ride
Though I want their seats, give up my pride
Dietmar, April 2022