I tie my shoes with hands that are stiff, and sore, and feel the laces cut into the skin as the knot is placed and the bow is turned around and lying across my shoes and there is that moment of satisfaction that the first grand job of the day is done.
I gaze into the mirror, wondering who that person there is supposed to be, who looks at me through weary eyes that studies the different spots and blemishes, and scars upon my face. These splotches there that are placed around my balded head, as pieces of a map, some are there as tiny cities, and others as deep as forests walked in darkness, and eyes that seek the truth.
Oh stretch. Stretch the back, and straighten the arms again, and try to stand vertical with each bended step. Pull from the shoulders up and out, cover the stillness with the trace of a smile, a remembrance of those wonderful days, and let the ones who see me today, who regard my path even a little bit, that may look at me stooped with gray hair and white beard, let them see me stand straight as I am able, shake their hand, hug their neck, and be the man I once sought to be.
Ralph E Peck
Photo by Ralph Peck
Claremore, Oklahoma
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