Then what is this?

I wonder. What it means. To be on the decline. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. I try to resist. Refuse. Any deterioration. In my abilities. Especially in spirit. Seldom conceding anything. Physically, I’m slower. No more 7-minute miles. Now it’s settling for endurance. A 10-mile trek. Ain’t bad. Every day. Even when it’s sub-zero. Cold. Cold. Crisp fresh air. The reverberating crunch of snow. Beneath my feet. Sounds like sweet music. Another reminder. That I’m not on decline. Instead, I’m adjusting. Adapting. No. No. I’m not enduring. Call it savoring.  The precious moments. And here I am. Writing. Writing. Writing. In a rhythm. That blends with the syncopated pulse beat of life.  Now I must go to Skype. To connect. With my Italian amore. For a taste. Of true love. If I don’t have it all. Then what is this? --Jim Broede