Dwindling Away

From being in excellent fettle once

To turning into an infirm self

This march proceeding downhill

Is an uneasy one.

This long, meandering, labyrinthine path

To be traversed by one and all

Seems as inevitable as the setting sun

This slow withering away

This muffled cry drowning away

Oh! Take hold and stop gathering dust

Break the monotony, take the reins

This vapid journey need not remain so dreary after all

This rigmarole can surely be rerouted to a riveting ride

Not a poem, but a thought

Ruffle up, Shamble not.