When the world you thought
was moving forward is now
skidding into reverse and 
gains that seemed assured

are dropping like dead leaves.
When you reach the age when
friends die faster than you 
can make new ones and

your knees and hips and back
ache when you try to do simple
things that once were easy, then
you begin to appreciate retreating

into a past, that maybe true, maybe
not but, in it you you could run
and ride sleds down icy hills and
walk the train tracks into town

without wondering even once
if your body was up to it,
if your luck would hold, if
your friends would have your back.