Aging

Accepting, finally he needs a cane,

He will use it however with disdain,

His face, robust in younger days, is pale,

Although he has his mind his health will fail.

But here, stirring black coffee with a spoon,

He drinks it sober in the afternoon,

Saving the sugar for a bitter day.

He lives with pain. Is there another way?

And takes his dinner with a grain of salt.

He is aging, though this is not his fault.

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