Out along the pavement

I wait twenty feet ahead

for his plodding steps.

Then I walk.  Stop.  Again, again.

Until he and I reach the shop,

find mangoes, juice, milk.

Though our food list remains

the same over our years,

our pace is now different,

his one knee disobedient,

foot-moves no longer heel-toe,

gait aided with a pole.

But his face looks young,

mine wrinkled like oak bark,

so together we are a pair.

Back home, cats, ears-forward,

are in the front window, hope

to sight a rabbit, robin.  Mostly us.

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