I am walking along this road at a slow creep.
Which years ago I could have traversed at a fair speed.
My bag is lowered every hundred yards for rest.
Other arm is required for my trusty stick.
So some sort of balance is sedately maintained.
To prevent a knee or other part giving way.
The more you walk the better it be, so they say.
Till the temptation of a seat beckons you.
Shun such comfort or on arising,
Moans and groans will burst forth.
In cries of pain, as joints start to creak.
While struggling to be upstanding again.
To perambulate homewards at a slow safe pace.
2022 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen
Photo: Pixabay License
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