I’m bent, I’m not broken,
so please don’t count me out yet;
I may be a bit slower,
and, yes, sometimes I forget.
My roots, they run deeply,
my faith runs deeper still;
my family is my treasure,
and love, my special pill.
Inside I’m still the same,
a bright little shining star;
I dream the same dreams,
I just can’t open that damn jar.
My legs they move more slowly,
and my mind, it comes and goes;
but I still know who I am,
and hey, I can even see my toes.
They are painted and they’re shiny,
can’t remember who did that;
but they make my feet look pretty,
and they even match my hat.
I may need a cane to walk with,
but I still can get outside;
Well wait, not right now I can’t go,
they stopped me when I tried.
I’ve seen a lot of things,
during this long life of mine;
but I never thought I’d see the day,
when going out could bring a fine.
We are bent but we’re not broken,
this too we will survive;
if everyone does what they should,
we will all come out alive.
© Leslie C Dobson