Out with the old and in with the new, indeed.
You can break in something new [given you have patience
and the will to get through the discomfort
of molding something to fit you just so - breaking it
down until it's transformed from what it was into
something to suit your needs],
but even then it always seems that it isn't as comfortable -
doesn't fit as well as that who's place it usurped -
until it too is on its last leg, shuffling its way to the door.
---
Out with the old, but what happens when the new is just
a size too small to fit the space it was intended for? Empty space
surrounding that which should have been full. A halo that instead
of exuding warmth only burns with the reminder
of what once was there. Gaps just big enough
for the phantoms of the past to squeeze through.
[Insulate all you can,
nothing can provide protection enough from their frigid grip.]
---
Out with the old so that you're consistently surrounded
by things newer and younger. Experience vicariously through
them as your joints don't behave as they should while you shuffle
slowly on your own path to the door. Push with whatever you have
left before they get old enough to notice it should be you
on the other side of the door facing that which you outgrew.
