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For years I have used more salt and pepper

to bring the tasteless food to life

and grieved the death of flower fragrance.

My handwriting has caught the leaf curl

and although I don’t now mind writing slow

with time in abundance day into day

my crop of letters, tight and serrated hesitate

before unfurling on the page.

I tripped on a cracked footpath last week

and learn to cross with cars more distant,

not quite into the swing of things

with a footfall that often comes up short.

Feeling flat but with a stiff upper lip

I start stop then go to see my doctor,

shaking and shaking her by the hand,

while suspecting this will not end well.

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