Gifts

Marcel Tanner

Abstract


At twenty-two
I was fast, fit, painless.
Speed went first,
ligaments next,
And grace turned awkward.
Vision blurs close,
but I see better with eyes closed.
Nestor saw it too
“The gods won’t give us all their gifts at once”


Keywords


poetry; aging

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Copyright (c) 2018 Marcel Tanner

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