Unglued

The discontented limbs refuse to move
Though they know how, they do not wish to know.
They will not fit the old familiar groove
Of muscle memory. They will not go.
For they have learned by pain to just say no,
To shiver and complain until they get
The wished surcease of effort, and so slow
The mind's insistence that they move it. Yet
Though they, themselves, desire to forget
Their wonted motion, yet the brain recalls
Despite the every effort of their let
What they could do when they would give their alls
And not ungently calls on them once more
To slowly do what has been fast before.