Bypassed clogs, wired up chest,
chicken wire stents, balloon veins attest,
Food tracks stain the front of my clothes
Can’t bend well, a few numb toes.

Pacemaker counts every darn beat,
insulin pump spritzing each treat.
Sleep mask pushes air up my nose,
bite guard at night, it helps I suppose.

But come Monday morning, the new break of dawn,
Tennis shoes appear, the grizzled years are shorn.
A young warrior arises, seeking battle with glee,
With long surging strides and bladder set free.

On to the courts, seeking victory and reward,
the racquet swings mightily, like a rapier swift sword..
If I could see better, it would surely be my day,
now I struggle gallantly, just to keep the ball in play.

Two hours fly by, as the gritty game proceeds,
suddenly it’s over, euphoria recedes.
Magic sneakers that carried me aloft,
lie on the ground, all gone soft.

I reach down groaning, where is my youth ?
Turn the shoe over, look for the truth.
There I behold a well-worn hole,
Lord of the courts, please bless my sole.