ON SO MANY OF US TURNING 70
(A poetic salvo across the bow of time, by Kip Allen)
We all act so bold.
We don’t like to be told
That in age we’re arriving at seventy
I imagine we’ll use
Any ruse that we choose
To by-pass that nasty unpleasantry.
But, sure, ain’t it grand
To hide heads in the sand,
And with time never learn to be thrifty?
Oh, waiter, get started.
We all need to be carded!
Since none of us looks over fifty…..
We have songs to be sung,
Though a nap can be very attractive.
As I said, we are young.
Uh… tip o’ my tongue….
My brain’s active, just slightly de-factive.
But the paradox here
(As we cry in our beer)
Is that time’s just our own fake construction.
Here’s a thought we can foment:
When we dwell in the moment,
The result is Importance-Reduction.
Heart mysteries are here:
When we live in fear,
The issue’s as big as an elephant.
If we choose HERE AND NOW
And just unknot our brow,
Then we make the term “old” more irrelevant.
Our eyes, they still twinkle.
We’re just kids with wrinkles!
The world’s still a magical place!
This life’s for discovery.
To aid our recovery,
We face traces of grace in our space.
So setting our stage
Needs no rage against age.
But our years, they can serve to remind us
We’re foot-loose and free!
(But if not home by 3,
Send out a search party to find us.)