Woes Of The Old

How undisciplined they once seemed,
with their sore feet,
back pain, and bodily malfunctions,
always telling us,
“you just wait,” as they catalogued
the woes of the old.

Vainglorious, in the vigor of youth,
we smugly believed
with barely the ache of a complaint,
what we commanded
a corporal servant would carry out,
ruled by willpower.

But now, suddenly facing revolt,
we are humbled kings
learning to our rue that an army
marches on its stomach,
impervious to the proclamations
from a dictating head.

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