The man with cane <br />walks feet wide apart <br />as if straddling three logs, <br />patiently up his driveway <br />clutching mail. <br /> <br />Tolerates snail’s pace infirmity <br />to the letterbox, <br />and a watermelon sized prostate. <br /> <br />Has no choice, <br />ageing is <br />an ascending escalator that shuts down, <br />makes him sweat small steps <br />as if on a tightrope, sideways; <br />back to the kitchen <br />where cuppa’s cold <br />and letter notes pension truncation. <br /> <br />Going to the moon <br />was just ‘one small step for man’¹ <br />the front gate is further <br />where bad news in the post travels <br />only as fast <br />as he can carry it. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />1. Neil Armstrong.<br /><br />Pete Dowe<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/cane-for-the-driveway/
