The Opposite of Slow

I’m used to walking at a clip

The opposite of slow,

The kind of speed New Yorkers use

To get where they must go.

 

Meandering is not my thing

So I don’t have a clue

When people choose the scenic route;

That simply will not do.

 

My aging hadn’t stopped me from

My rapid urban pace

Until my knee decided it

Would put me in my place.

 

So now I notice older folk

With walkers or a cane

And, just like them, I’m moving slowly,

Fighting off the pain.

 

It could be much, much worse, I know

And it can yet improve

But I will not be happy ‘til

I’m in that city groove.