those first few days when on his new regime
and watched again when he returned, now slower.
I reckoned that by Tuesday he’d give in.
But day by day he passed my window faster,
his face set in a grimace that said 'More'
as though he knew to give up was no option.
He’d seen a sign – the type you don’t ignore.
As weeks went by, he huff-puffed less, walked stronger,
his new legs striding through the morning light,
his body firming up as his resolve did -
a future that had gone to seed, in sight.
I watched him as I too had much to lose
and tugged on my neglected walking shoes.
© Fran Hill
