I used to be the Chief, the commander,
Of the troops in and on my human body,
When my head, hands and feet complied,
With orders to sit, stand, bend and bow.
As years pile up, at some juncture,
Our bodies begin to receive puncture,
And your eyes that saw refuse to see,
With parts of you slowly drowning.
Rising up before from rest, from bed,
Get up! my limbs would rise to my orders,
With hands saluting and legs obeying,
And off I go to explore my day.
But now I yell an order for all to assemble,
One leg responds another yells back,
I am not ready sir, you aren’t the boss no more,
I get off this bed when I am ready or feel like it.
Is this mutiny or rebellion in the ranks?
Maybe I will call for a Court Marshall,
Yea right, in the doctor’s court, his office,
If I can only arrest them, and bring them to order.
For some, it sneaks in earlier,
And for others, it craws in slowly,
But at some stage your sunlight deems up,
As your bones to you, now talk back.
Aging, we must take without raging,
A flow we take with care and caution,
For so it is in this journey, this life,
That all must face with utmost pride.
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