Graceful should come naturally,
not achieved after grim struggle
but worn with casual chic
like Audrey Hepburn donning a silk scarf.
Elegance too; seemingly easy
and simple—often cloaking years
of sweat, pain and struggle—
like Misty Copeland, dancing.
Smiling, I approach the winner
while extending my hand.
Proper congratulatory phrases flow
pleasantly from my lips.
But the bit of Welsh (my coalminer grampa)
in me wants not to be pleasing.
It wants to rage against
the inevitable slowing of the pace.