The walker stepped back to the wall
And whispered to the cane,
"I know we're made to give support,
But man, it's such a drain.
The only time I shift myself
We're locked in for the night.
If we could conga line the hall,
We'd sure to cause a fright.
When we're in harness, tired old men
And women guide our moves,
Led by younger, stronger folks,
Obedience behooves.
I'm proud to buttress dignity,
To help them stand with ease.
Tall or small, I'm flexible,
Adjust me as you please.
At least I move from place to place
While tasting different air,
Not like that Exercycle there,
Who spins up his despair."
"A thousand miles and I don’t move
A hairs breadth east or west.
My little brain just rattles on
To score my riders test.
I measure distance, time and work,
But only in my brain.
It matters not how long the trip,
Right here's where I remain.
Against the wall, repair a fall,
Recall how muscles work
Returning them to their old lives,
I guess that it's a perk."
Silence reigns when people come
To exercise their skill.
Machines will wait to talk again,
And every night they will.
Richard Higley © Sept 12, 2014
