The Message
Wes Wilson
Heady youth,
thumb your nose;
deign to think
of aging woes.
Some go fast.
Some go slow.
Eventually,
we’re gonna go.
We adjust
to wear and tear.
More rapid slide?
More to bear.
For this journey,
few wish haste
Not our choice;
gods set the pace.
The message comes,
the way defined.
Our tool to cope:
Strength of Mind.
It’s Parkinson’s;
My course is set.
Stiff upper lip?
You bet!
Copyright © 2012,
F. Wesley Wilson,
all rights reserved.