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.