These Are His Golden Days
He slowly rises from his chair,
A little wobbly, relying on his waning upper body strength to pull him up,
It’s just a regular part of life these days,
Things don’t work the same as they used to,
Certainly not pretty, but it is what it is,
And it has been that way for awhile now,
The days of ease somewhat of a blur.
He pours a drink into his glass,
The familiar shake of his hand persists,
It has for the past year or two,
A reminder that time is not always kind,
He’s just grateful that he can still do for himself,
He DREADS the day when he can no longer do so,
We all do!
He decides to tend to his garden,
Today is a day to relish for sure,
Then again, so is each day at this stage of the game,
He carefully bends in half ambling his way to his knees,
Kneeling or squatting is not a choice anymore,
Like many other things it seems,
Indeed, he must crawl between the dirt rows,
Lovingly harvesting each vegetable that he has planted.
At night, he settles into his rocker/recliner,
His weary body and aching bones reminding him of his day’s doings,
He shifts back and forth to find a comfortable position,
Resting is not as restful as it once used to be,
The days of true rest are behind him,
And, solid sleep is just as difficult to come by,
Up, down, down, up amidst endless tossing and turning,
Daylight usually a welcome sight for many reasons.
These are the ‘golden years’ they say,
He is still waiting for the golden,
Yet, he is grateful that he has made it here,
After all, some, much, much younger than he, don’t even make it to the light of day,
Life is not always fair and that is a fact,
But, he doesn’t let it hold him back,
He keeps on going, fighting the fight,
To live out each and every day and night.