Seventy, And Not Counting


(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…..

Audaciously young,
We have songs to be sung,
Though a nap can be very attractive.

As I said, we are young.
(slight pause)
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.)

9 comments to “Seventy, And Not Counting”
  1. This is adorable. A delight to read, and in reading become. A nice experience to invite. At 72, just this morning I was contemplating what might be 8 years and what needed to be embodied and expressed in that time.

  2. Hayward,
    You’re more confident than I am about this ride on the water slide of time. When it comes to future years awaiting my eminent (excuse me, imminent) arrival, of late I’ve been couning on one finger at a time.
    Michael (“still here, but greying”) Gray

  3. It may not be my fate, or written on my slate, to reach that venerable eight.

    With both parents gone by 72, I’m dead-heading without a ticket and just happily checking out the passing scenery. The conductor has not come by for three years now, so as free rides go, it’s a good one.

  4. We can substitute any age we wish.
    We can pretend we have a say in the matter.
    (My father moved on at age 61.
    My mother at almost 94.)
    It’s a crapshoot.
    Have a nice day.

    –Kip Allen

  5. I was grateful to make it to 70 as many friends, including my wife didn’t. I had great birthday party with two dozen friends, lots of good food and many bottles of fine wine. Maybe I’ll do it again next year at 71. Cheers!

  6. Me too. I feel grateful for the extra years that others I know have not had.

    I just started reading a library book (“The Hidden Life of Trees”) about how natural communities of trees live much longer than trees that are isolated or transplanted with their roots damaged–let along cut down with chain saws. I’ve just started reading it, but already it feels like I’m going to learn something about the kind of human communities that produces health, happiness, and longevity.

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