Walking the night was once like the day
The comfort of quiet, the darkness your veil
To work in the silence, no challenge and warm
Your target a cert, just waiting your call.
Then age came a calling, the nastiest of foes
Your sight turning misty, with grey your new norm.
Your firm step of youth, has turned very unsure
Your strength in the move, a strain and concerned
Lost senses awake, to counter that threat
Your nose and your ears, work flat-out and best
A gift you should relish is all so revealing,
Saying all your faults are now loudly screaming
Your rifle once carried, stays rigidly slung
But your pack’s still a rest, to assist with the shot.
When all this sinks in it’s one hell of a shock
And judgements made slowly are sometimes with doubt.
The good bit you’re finding is your skill set still works
And food on the table is still a dead cert.
Your night walks still a pleasure you really enjoy
But your return now a maybe, and no longer assured.