Now and then. I stop to think. About what it’s supposed to
feel like. To be 80 years old. That scares me. Enough for me to stop thinking.
About my age. Makes me wonder. Why we count. And observe our birthdays. Some of
us actually celebrate. Personally, I have better things to fete. Than a
birthday. It’s a good thing. To forget one’s age. And get on with life. Under
the assumption. That I’m still a young fellow. No matter my age. And that I
might live forever. In one divine and
delightful form or another. --Jim Broede
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment