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HAPPY BIRTHDAY: To ME

This weekend I celebrate another year on this earth. Yep, like the rest of us, I’m getting older. And with age comes change––most of it good, some…well, based upon the poem I composed to commemorate the occasion, you be the judge. No, I don’t suffer from all the maladies presented in the rhyme, just having a bit of geriatric fun. From my perspective, if folks can’t poke fun at themselves, they become a sorry lot. Thank God I’m still poking.

Enjoy. Thanks for stopping by.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY: To ME

Seems like yesterday that I was a teen

As I’m approaching my seventh decade

I’m wondering if life will get mean

After numerous years sweet as marmalade

I used to do well with sports

Once ran with the best wild and free

A natural-born athlete of sorts

Now I’m wobbling on my metal knee

In high school life used to seem simple

Thoughts of classes, dating girls, driving cars

And hoping that glowing red pimple

On prom night––and all nights––stayed afar

By my twenties I began to think seriously

Of a woman to love and to marry

One who’d view me more than just curiously

And down the road our children she’d carry

After forty-seven years of marriage

I have to think that God smiled on me

Though not always easy, no intent to disparage

’Cause there’s no place that I’d rather be

But life’s also shown it likes to play games

When it comes to older people, you see

Such as remembering other folks’ names

And recalling where I left my damned keys

Sure, my brain cells got filled with knowledge

And for that I’m most grateful, whoo-ee

Often smarts that didn’t require college

That are fading with my struggling memory

Some foods that once went down easy

Seem to often talk back to me these days

So when my gut starts feeling queasy

Anti-acids have become a dietary phase

No worries about my six-pack abs freezing

Because they’re far better insulated now

To think otherwise would only be teasing

And what’s with these bushy eyebrows?

Bodily functions, yeah, I’ve still got ’em

Though it is getting harder to see

Things are wearing out top to bottom

And it often takes much longer to pee

Yep, old age inspires plenty of attitude

My level of tolerance has shrunk

By now I’ve heard most of the platitudes

And, honestly, a great many of them stunk

But enough of my old fart whining

Time to stop hammering my drum

When I consider my alternative is dying

I look forward to more decades to come

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