Legibility

The clipboard’s plastic, scratched and blue,

the pen is chained to keep it near.

I sign my name to prove I’m who

the nurse is waiting for to hear.

My old ID shows loops and curls,

a younger hand that had the time.

But now the ink just drags and swirls

without a reason or a rhyme.

The tail of every 'y' is flat,

a tired line that’s lost its kick.

I used to write much more than that

before the joints began to click.