Lost Legs

We are like men who have lost their legs; they never grow new ones. (Alcoholics Anonymous, page 30.)

Acceptance. Giving up
those oughta, coulda, shouldas.
I'll never have the long fingers
that would have made it easier
to play "Smile" when Daddy
led singing at Rotary faster
than I could play it. But I could
practice enough to play piano
again – and my Rotary club
doesn't sing "Smile" and needs
a pianist. I'll never be a "normal eater"
but I can follow a food plan today.