Slow Walking

When I was young I was a fast-walker

Eating up the miles to reach my destination,

Going fast, no time to waste,

Taking purposeful steps towards my target.

I power-walked along busy streets,

Strode out for miles across lonely hills,

Leaving behind the slow-walkers

Who plodded along and got in my way.

Now I am old I am a slow-walker,

Taking my time on my circular paths.

I have no purpose or destination

Other than wandering home refreshed and joyful.

Now I am old I have time to spend,

A lovely supply of moments I can use

To smell the flowers and listen to the birds

As I go slowly along my way.

Now I am old I have time to share,

Time to enjoy the conversations

With the other slow-walkers I meet

As we go slowly along our way.

The world seems so much better

As a slow-walker.