RUNNING WITH THE TEAM

Every day I toil

To turn the sterile soil

Of raw imagination

Into tinsel or shook foil

Until age's turmoil

Beats, defeats me.

And then I walk a while -

A camera with a smile -

Despite the aches and pains.

And then the arthritis -

Brutal in my feet,

Bestial in my hands,

Barbaric in my fingers -

Makes me retreat.

Like a crippled veteran

I can no longer run;

Although I dream of it

Night after night -

Not fast,

But with purpose,

Topping the hills,

And gliding down -

As I did back then,

When we jogged for miles,

Yes, miles, again and again,

Around the old town,

In the late summer heat,

Face concentrated

Into a frown,

When I led for a while

But faded and fell back

Into the bare-footed pack,

Always at the last turn,

Overtaken by the elite

With their silver feet,

But I wished them well 

Because we were a team.