Frailty takes us quick to rest.
Our demise, certain descent.
In a future nought to then invest,
Slow returning all life lent.

As if a preparation being,
To better acceptance of the end.
Unsteady, from existence fleeing,
No more its ills a care to mend.

Brief straight and upward stretched,
Then a staircase slow descending.
As each new day from future fetched,
Begins the bowing and the bending.

Tall and prominent, supple and strong,
To short, less noticed, weak.
From reach and stride and life still long,
In time for each, a lower peak.

Frailty lurks in looming years,
Health's value understating.
And slowly by sly stealth appears,
Patient hidden, wanting, waiting.