Feeble, a word not often used
in this hi-def, mega bite world,
where almost anything can be done
with the tap of a fingertip,
the aged still feel feeble.
This crackled feeling runs along the rims
of brittle nails
and gray-white strands of hair.
The once svelte figures of maid or man,
now chose more often to crunch and snap,
as ligaments roll unpleasantly over joint heads.
The witty repartee of youth is replaced by a dazed look.
Yes, at this moment,
après gym and post nap
and pre chair massage a wobbling frailness
surrounds me in a weak chicken broth
cover bloodless palms –
weak spring sun
poet: Debbie Guzzi
Contest: How Do I Feel Today