subtle, shallow breath spread;
there, the cold and sombre fall, giving weary heart rest.

but how it did fester under his tongue; how his regret did cry in such a sepulchre throat.

but still, did the sea pull. still, did her lips part to make air, and let her body scream life.

still, did leaves grow, and still did they fall.

still, was there living, even in a woman's grief.

Upon awakening I almost never,
jump right out of bed, as I once did.
Slowly I rise to sit awhile on the edge
of  my days desired intentions.
Stiffly I stand and tentatively step away
towards the bathroom to relieve my
most pressing bladder urges.

Those parts of me that do still work,
do now mostly hurt and that's for certain.
Like any other machine, my body's warranty
has long ago mostly expired.

When we old friends now gather,
rather than palavering about our kids,
our golf game, or our ******* Boss at work,
the collective commiserating talk always turns
to our individual deteriorating health matters.

How things once were and no longer are.
Our new hurts and concerns laid out in
vivid detail, what the latest tests revealed
and what the Doctor said or concluded.  
These shared aging complaints you see,
seem almost limitless and all consuming.

We become a little like a hapless clergyman,
preaching wishful consoling rhetoric to his choir.
Not one of us knows, or has the answers
to any of life's BIG questions and actually
never did.

Misery you see, does indeed love company,
talking and sharing seems to help I guess,
being the only real tonic offered or taken,
no prescription required or need be written.

I can see through your lies,
into the depth of your soul,
a watery grave,
you have jellyfish eyes.