Copyright is held by the author.
I twist, turn
Lurch and plunge
On wooden limbs.
The puppeteer,
Master of the movement
Choreographs my day
On this tiny stage.
Gone — is the grace of youth,
Muscles tensing, turning
Effortlessly
While I danced the world.
Now pain is the puppeteer
Frustration and anger
The backdrop to the stage.
I struggle to my feet
My joints stiff
And I travel the miles
Across my room.
PERFECT….!!!
It pains me relate!
It can indeed feel like miles to cross a room.
Well done Katherine. Love it.
I can relate my favorite so far