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.
