And then,
one day,
my back went out.
I was 26.
Not totally crippled,
per se,
but my life
had just been changed.
No longer would I
be able to carry
my bride across
the threshold.
Nor carry kids piggy back.
Or swing someone around in a wild hug.
Carefree sex was gone now too,
before I'd really had a crack at it.
And I was glad that I had already
slept on concrete streets,
because that's out now too.
What can one do,
but carry on and change.
I didn't see it coming,
not so soon at least.
But it's a little late
to complain about it now.
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2 comments:
for some reason this poem reminds me of shel eilverstein!
I believe that's Shel Silverstein you mean and in my wildest dreams I would like to be as good as him.
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