Now walking is an issue more than norm,
as rotting knees prevent my daily round,
no excercise can keep me well and sound,
my body lost its shape, is losing form.
I’m wrecked in ice and sea before a storm,
my hope is gone to get to safer ground,
and godforsaken I shall die, unfound;
how can I feel not bad but good and warm?
You say a new knee might just do the trick,
I must admit this sounds as if good sense,
the specialist will help, my hope returns.
Maybe one day I’ll lose that wretched stick.
Although I think his skills must be immense
to make me whole – I shall not have concerns.