This morning seems like seven years ago.
I can’t remember all the things I’ve done
Today, but now it’s almost over. Though
Night has descended, still there remains fun

And games–not really–still there remains stuff
That must be finished ‘fore the lights go out.
There’s coffee for the morning; things are tough
In the A.M. if we must go without.

That’s why the auto function is a boon
To my survival, and that of my wife,
Who’ll be quite crabby if I don’t go soon
And set it up. And now the dog barks! Life

Isn’t supposed to be this hectic now.
Thank God I don’t have to go milk a cow.

It’s not another number, but a state

Of mind. You get older if you allow

Yourself to do that evil thing, but wait–

You’re really getting better. Only now

You have the wisdom youth can never know.

And beauty? It’s a transitory thing,

Perceived as a treasure by those who go

To awful lengths to seek the golden ring

Of artificial youth. But I, who live

A wondrous life, a gift from one who sees

What lies beneath, know true beauty. I give

To you a peaceful respite beneath trees

That worship longevity. May this prove

To you that what I treasure is your love.

 

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton

SONNET WRITER

This is a try to conquer something new.

I think I need to stretch my brain a bit.

I’ll write one first, and then maybe a few

More if I can. I don’t think I can quit

Making rhymes that others’d like to read;

Might even try themselves if they are bold.

Who knows where this new exercise might lead.

I want to make a mark before I’m old.

This guy who reads my stuff has made me think

Of what I might be able to produce,

To grow my mind, to take me to the brink

Of some new place. I can’t declare a truce

On fighting time, of giving in to age.

This is a war I’m now willing to wage.