You’ve grown older with these years.
Sagged into them, your worn out chair,
too comfortable to discard.
I have too.
Now there are knots in these bones.
A lattice work of knuckle and knobble
and I cannot help you to your feet
propel you across the kitchen sidestep,
kick, flick, turn and lift!
jitterbug us into three am.
I cannot swagger with the same strength
of 1970s rock’n’roll
disco room dance floors.
We are old together it seems.
These feet became stepping stones.
Smaller ones, with laughing mouths
who clutch the knuckles and knobbles
We were always old to them.
They are young,
and so very youthful,
and I will show them
how we danced.
This Tuesday’s DVerse Poet’s Pub prompt is a corker! Write a poem from the point of view of someone who’s not your gender. Check the challenge out for yourself and see what the other Pub Poets have in store!