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.