My mind says do it.
Muscle memory falters,
too many springs have sprung,
the daffodil kind.
Too many candles have crowded flowers,
the icing kind.
Life’s become a carousel ride.
I’m the unbolted horse,
slowly getting up from down
moving slower still from down to up.
Au naturel, gold gilding eroded by time
ultimately rounding the bend.
Walking to my once busy house,
I imagine that merry-go-round
music wooing, colors shimmering.
I smile as my mind reminds me done that,
and I pick up my pace,
kicking through the autumn leaves.
Day 11 of Napowrimo. April is national poetry writing month. Today’s prompt includes these words, “If you are a citizen of the “union” that is your body, what is your future “state of the union” address?”
lillian the home poet 
Fantabulous scenes. 😎🥀😎🥀😎🥀😎🥀
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Down is definitely easier than up these days. Love the carousal images. (K)
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Many images I love! But hate to think we spend our time as carousel horses…going round and round, and you say, up is down, and down is slower (of course not exactly.) It is up to the aging one, to identify what is good about getting older? It would probably be different for each of us.
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I like your poem a lot. I feel exactly the same about my life. I love the metaphor of your last line – ‘kicking through the autumn leaves” – perfect.
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