These Old Bones, they ache.
My legs swing over the side of the bed.
The hips throb in pain,
eyes blurry.
Tired old ears sound out the surroundings.
Who's awake.
Who's not.
Slowly the stretches begin,
in an attempt to lessen the pain.
When that fails, come the pills.
Too many to count;
all colors, shapes, sizes and weights.
They are my breakfast, my lunch and dinner.
Such as the way of my aging.