Johanna Shapiro, PhD

Arthritis is not dramatic
Neither sexy, nor romantic
Makes you feeble, makes you frantic
All your movements are pedantic

First you stagger, then you shuffle
What you want to do is bustle
Yes, you try to shake and hustle
But your body remains a puzzle

When you long to leap and dance
When you yearn to gaily prance
Instead you creep as in a trance
You really do not stand a chance

You’ve become a bent old crone
Full of cranky creaks and groans
Though you mourn and though you moan
All that’s left is to write a poem.