A weary ache settles in, my knee creaks

As though made from rusted iron,

Or some broken toy, an abandoned antique

Left in the garden among among weeds and fern

My senses dull, the pill deadens the pain

I'm getting older and the shadows are growing longer

In them I see blurred shapes and stories

Like faces in the rain

What I wouldn't give for a cigarette

A drag from the past, unmoored by concern of sickness

The taste and the smell clinging to my clothes, my breath, my soul

As I lean against my car watching the sun set