In The Slow Lane

 

Wild Woman never hurries

any more.

Her pace is slow and stately,

like an old barge,

plying stagnant waters.

Sometimes she yearns for
a tugboat
to give her a little push.

Yesterday, on my mobility scooter, I passed a blonde cherub beaming at me from his stroller. He thought my scooter was very cool and would have liked to trade. "Wheels at both ends of the spectrum", I grinned at his parents as we passed.