I’ll swear, but stay in motion
(Maybe limping, maybe weaving
Just a bit as I walk across the room).
Tomorrow may be legs and feet again
(A part of looming old age I am told).
If this were all I faced I wouldn’t care;
At facing pain I’m fairly bold.
What’s hard is losing joy,
Sometimes from familiarity—
From having been there
Too many times already—
And sometimes from despair
At my constant grieving
As I see how my beloved suffers
On her halting way through
Yet another pain-filled day.