Thursday, October 6, 2022

Walking

There is little left of his hip —

Afflicted since he was a pip


In a leg brace, he would trip

On the curb, crossing the street.


He’d never been strong or fleet.

The clouds followed him


Above oceans he could swim

With a few strokes of his arms,


Setting off foreign alarms.

The highest mountains bent


Upside down for his ascent.

Only he knew where he went.