Sunday, December 3, 2017

Years of My Life

A Journey from 1944 to … Now

School Year, 2016–2017
Retired

And so we’ve reached the final year—
I mean, the current one.
For final has a darker sense
That will not be much fun.*

We started back in ’44–
The year that I was born.
Through school and love and loss we’ve gone—
From happy to forlorn.

I’m three years more than seventy—
And one clear thing I see:
These years I’ve had? Well, they are not
Sufficient, not for me!

My health, of course, an enemy—
My age is not a boon.
But still I hope for more good years—
For death comes far too soon.

I want to see my grandsons grow—
I want to hear the voice
Of that amazing woman—yes,
I’m speaking here of Joyce.

So many things I want to read—
So many things to write.
So many loved ones whom I need—
So, hold off, final night!

*Or so I’ve read.

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