JOHNMICHAEL SIMON POETRY

Falling

Look at me

balancing like a heron

on one leg, puling my socks on

at eighty!

While the minutes flash by

glinting like fish in a river

silver minnows, silver years

memories hiding under rocks –

now you see them now you don’t.

At the clinic they warned us

seniors are prone to falls

I know it – my ex fell down the stairs

on her back; an uncle landed three times

in emergency rooms; Menachem Begin

fell in the bath tub.

Still, I’m continuing my balancing act

somewhere between senility and stupidity

as a redhead prances by

outside the open window

and the radio starts playing

falling in love again

She’s on her way to visit a relative

in the retirement home down the road

and I’m on my way to finding out

why I’m wearing one white and one black sock!

© Johnmichael Simon

2017

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