![]() Ah, Sixty-five Years Old!A Poem by Bob BAh, sixty-five years old! To me, it is a marvelous age: No longer a foolish, dreamy-eyed kid, Yet still not a stuffy old sage; Not too old to keep on dreaming, But old enough to know about The world and how it operates And how to figure some people out. Ah, sixty-five years old: A brand new chapter in a wonderful tome Called Life, which started years ago And spans cradle to nursing home. My high points: my table of contents; Mental pictures: my illustrations; All my memories: my glorious chapters; My comments and poems: added notations. Ah, sixty-five years old! Every day’s filled with new adventures. I’m ready to handle whatever’s to come: Hip replacements, cataracts, dentures! So what if there’s an ache or pain Or two or three or four or five. Life’s too short to let pain stop me; I’m happy just to be alive! Ah, sixty-five years old, With more gray hair upon my head, Where the crop is getting quite sparse. (More hair grows on my ears, instead!) But life is easy; there’s much less stress. There’s time to reflect, to garden, to cook. I don’t have to shave every day Or give a damn about how I look. Ah, sixty-five years old, With a few dents in the bumper guard. But the motor’s still running in this ol’ car; It’s not ready for the auto junkyard. I’ll keep enjoying this incredible journey, Sailing along in cruise control. To live every day to the fullest: That’s my aim, my dream, my goal. © 2015 Bob B |
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Added on August 15, 2014 Last Updated on September 17, 2015 Author
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