DECREPITUDE

 DECREPITUDE

Tsk, tsk, you're a fall risk,

So hang your head down low;

Try to hold onto the railings,

Steady as you go.

Your legs like painful candlesticks,

Burnt down to their precious wicks.

Use the walker to keep steady,

Have a wheelchair at the ready.

Lest you fall and cause an awful wound,

Blood spurting from your head,

Better yet to hedge your bets

And hibernate in bed.

Oh drat, it should be old hat,

The rigidity and the limp,

22 years with this disease,

Your life has kindly spent.

Old age may have its pulchritude,

Its lessons for the soul, 

But allow me a bit of latitude.

While I adjust my attitude,

To one that shows more gratitude,

For the years have taken toll.

Tsk, tsk,

Is that your breakfast,

That's fallen in your lap.

Your arms wooden and rigid,

You fear that they could snap.

So spill at breakfast, spill at snack time,

Spill, spill, spill,

Bonus points if you spill at dinner,

It lends a certain thrill.

Time was you could charm a crowd with a gift for fiery speech,

Now you humbly mumble,

And fall into the breach.

Tsk, tsk, your walk was brisk,

But now it's slowed to just a crawl.

Medicine's now hit or miss,

Your back's against a wall.

And perhaps it's your own ineptitude,

That's fostered this decrepitude,

Who can really say?

But limp into the fading sun,

And live to fight another day.

-Bruce Potts

Copyright 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

HEADLONG INTO JOY

HEADLONG INTO JOY

Sun breaks through a cloudy morning,

Wild geese swoon at water's edge.

The happy brooks careen and sparkle,

Splashing headlong into joy.

Nature's awake and all a quiver

And barefoot lovers traipse the shore,

Whispering their solemn vows,

To have and hold on God's green earth.

It is a thing of sacred mystery,

How one's soul can feel unfettered,

How the heart can stay afloat,

Jamming to the day's mad chorus.

The golden tunes you've laid before me,

Challenge me to breathe anew,

The fumes of love's intoxication

And walk with you beneath the moon.

Moon breaks through a gloomy evening,

The bedclothes sweet with your cologne.

Your fingers come and overtake me,

You splash me headlong into joy.

-Bruce Potts

Revised Copyright 2015

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WALK WITH ME

WALK WITH ME

Walk with me,
Let's hop down these spring streets
Like rabbits in heat.

And try to dispel all this crazy energy.

Let's look at the houses
And swing from the trees
And marvel at the squirrels
And mock this technological world
With our healthy frames.

We'll make up funny names 
For the people that we pass.
Hold each other's hands
And pretend our love will last.

Talk a little dirty, spread some harmless lies,
Like where babies really come from, and the origin of fireflies.
Spread vicious rumors about the sun and sky,
Make believe we're two year olds, our every question why.

Wonder at the beauty,
Call in sick and shirk our duty.
Learn to loaf like harmless oafs.
Beavis and Butthead minus the menace,
More like Ethel and Lucy or Tom and Jerry.
That Butthead dude is kinda scary,
That Beavis a little too fond of fire.
Perhaps we'd be twin Tweety Birds,
Singing on a fence wire.

It is so much finer, to hang with a mischievous crowd,
To sing off key and raucously loud.
Into your lover's ear until the break of dawn,
Always ensuring they'll miss you when you're gone.
To wake with glee to find, you may still have some time,
Just before the heart it flails and then begins to flat line.

Walk with me,
Let's hop down these spring streets
Like rabbits in heat.
Admire the neighbors' gardens
And their fancy garden fountains.
Roll around in all their yards 'til they come outside and scold us,
And into model citizens how they'll try to mold us.
And then we'd be slaves to their every whim and wish,
No longer free to roam at will, to gossip and to dish

But I say fun is worth the risk of running into a gloomy Gus,
And Fate will lead us to the yards of nice people like us.
And I have a little secret to whisper in your ear
As we swing from the trees and marvel at the squirrels
And mock this technological world.
The secret it is only this, I am dying for a little kiss,
And hope you'll not feel put upon, if I tell you you're my only one.
If I should one day up and say, I dig those legs you're moving on.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2013
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED