We never give much thought to our knee
that knobbly part of our leg that keeps us free
to run and walk and play all kinds of sport
without a hint of some malicious thought.
And then one day the knee starts to complain
the simple act of bending gives us pain
those years of growth it took and gave support
now needs a little help and kindly thought.
So do not neglect these wonderful joints of ours
until it's too late - they've put in the hours,
treat them with kindness and all due respect
a daily dose of massage you'll not regret.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem