Twelve reps. Then twelve more, badly.
The body I had in April is a rumor now.
The therapist says progress is not a line,
it is a stairwell with a landing,
and I am on the landing, which counts.
I did not know I would have to learn
the same stairs twice. I did not know
the second learning would be the proud one.
This a fake test poem created by First Verse - it will be deleted at launch
