The Middle Years

Shoes on wooden floors
White socks
in brown leather loafers.
Skinny frail legs,
weak at the knees.

An overhead ceiling fan
sits still.
Dust collecting
on its blades.

Aching joints
a reminder of age,
of many years,
of running, running
and running.

A body
whose best years
have passed.
A mind struggling,
now sliding down,
the back side of life.

Time
has run its course.
The days of life
are closing out.

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