Showing His Age

It’s something in his eyes
these days,
half wistful – half satisfied.
He is showing his age;
limps up steps, stares at me
with sad eyes, embarrassed
when he slips.

Arthritic limbs loosen
on warm days;
he plays puppy-like,
crunches through leaf piles,
discovers new scents
and tracks them.

On chilly mornings,
with only the sun
heating the porch,
he stretches out
allows the warmth to soak in,
is content to sleep.

When night finds him
he wanders about,
reluctant to give in
and leave another day behind.