Kneed

January 7, 2012 By in poetry 2 Comments

(A little poem from several years ago.)

Sometimes, Apple, my knees are too much with me,
cartilage sandy and stringy;

I am unbowed, my knees unbending
but not from any noble unyeilding;

If I were to kneel, I could not get up.

Apple, both you and I decay.

2 responses

  1. Welcome back from surgery.

    I’m sympathetic, now in my 13th week from achilles tendon repair – that was 6 weeks without being able to put any weight on it at all. The first few days is always painful or swollen.

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