My foot when younger merely went its ways,
not much concerned with possibilities,
and daily trips and stumbles did not faze
its confidence to do what so it please.

To take the stairs by skipping each odd rung
was such a simple sort of taking flight
and minor jars that body joinings sprung
were all ignored when gazing from the height.

To hold the railing now is wisdom's choice
and feeling every foothold till secure
is constant song of aging's vexing voice
that drowns the youthful tunes when all was sure.

Now older, foot, your messages are faint
and your responses mingled with complaint.

- Robert Stone, 20 March 2011