Lost, a missing step

Well, I lost a step,
It's gone, lost somewhere
In the shuffle of my unsteady feet.

Parkinson's has a way
Of stealing the rhythm from your stride,
Turning every walk across the room
Into an adventure.

I'm cantankerous, they say,
Irritable even.
My patience has long flown. 

But what do they expect?
Every button is a battle,
Every spoonful of soup
An exercise in concentration.

Yet, I see hope in each new dawn.
The tremors, the stumbles—
They're just part of the dance now.

As night falls and I settle into my chair,
I close my eyes and listen.
The world outside is alive, and so am I.

Tomorrow's another day,
And I'll find that lost step.