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