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Poetry by Rachel A. Gold


by Rachel A. Gold

It isn't any fun to be
So very old and weak
I can remember vividly
The things of which I speak

I used to take long walks each day
I loved to do the things
That now I can no longer do
Somehow my strength took wings

Then finally I had to come
And live here with my son
He and his wife are good to me
And so is everyone

I'm thankful when I am asleep
That I can dream in bed
That I can walk again, and that
I'm helping them, instead

I promised when I came to them
I'd do the things I could
To help myself, and so I do
If I could do more, I would

I've gotten bent and sometimes stiff,
Sometimes I'm wracked with pain.
O how I wish I could just
Be well and strong again

Poetry by Rachel A Gold

Copyright 1996-2000

Tuesday, 04-May-2010 14:48:25 EDT