Words weary and flaccid forms, forced in metre
Folding themselves upon themselves and time
Following foot by foot much fleeter feet,
Seeking tired rhyme to find my loves sweet child.
A grinding of knees slows my Autumn years
Where once, oiled by sweat, Springs neat ankles danced.
A mind abraded, dusts my Winter fears:Breathless and deaf where once your Summers sang.
Without leg’s dance, ears to hear, lungs to sing,