That Day I was 50 years younger than I am today. This is what I wrote when I saw what I might have become by now! I have been spared much, but I still have to learn to be contented.
A Small Old Man
A small and bent old man
Clamped in a dwindled chest and
Fragile back moves, moves, no faster
No faster than his thoughts or his slow eye
Can any longer move. While I walk past
Nimble as he walks in memory.
He frightens me as I pass him,
Simply that he should have outlived
The age I find so difficult, and still
Take his determined steps in this busy street;
Strong enough to want to walk along
So hard and so heavy a pavement,
Old enough to be contented
And to suffer the little things slowly.