“When I get older/Losing my hair…”
When Dad turned sixty-four,
I played the Beatles
and serenaded him,
to Mom's delight.
My first husband didn't
make it to sixty-four --
but now I have -- the year
of the Ford Mustang,
a parallel he'd appreciate.
So today I read poems
to start my birth day --
a gift I requested --
but already the morning
is escaping -- galloping
out from under me
before I have a clue
as to what's happening--
I am easily overwhelmed
these days -- but I enjoy
more companionship
than I ever have --
And the steady calm of
a man who misses me
the moment I step
out the door --
And who will make it
(God willing) to sixty-four,
And whom I will serenade
in a terrible, warbling,
grateful voice --
For the life I get to live.
Published by
Martha T. Terrell
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Happiest of birthdays to you, Martha! Yes, indeed, so many blessings. My sister didn’t make it to 64. . . neither my first husband. This is why we must suck the marrow out of each and every day. . . on their behalf. May this be a year of poetry, song, good health, peace and fellowship for you!
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