A Riff On Kevin East's Fine Poem: Morris Minor Poem by David McLansky

Young man I do appreciate your kindness at the curb,

So good of you to aid me there without a pleading word;

The indignity of growing old: you become once more a child,

You lack a strong commanding voice, you get by on a smile;

You grow so weak a curb becomes a problematic trial;

You move to lift a feeble leg, an inch becomes a mile;

So thank you for the guiding hand, I practically am blind;

Do you need a lift somewhere, driving clears my mind.