image from theworldrace.com
Hug, Kiss and a Tickle
“If you tickle us, do we not laugh?”
I know it is full-on Spring
now that the night birds sing;
as the lawn demands to be mowed
and my old back becomes bowed
from weeding, seeding & humming.
Soon I will have another birthday.
It is a time to shout a loud hooray,
because I will turn seventy-three
and too many loved ones have left me--
too young, too soon; definitely not OK.
There once was a billionaire bully named Trump,
who shouldn’t even be King of the Dump--
but OMG he became our President,
kissing chaos & favoring rules that are bent--
as History will label him a cancerous lump.
They tell me aging is not for sissies,
as I moan, fuss, & perform divers hissies--
angry at my ancient body’s failings
as youth departed other sailings--
only salved by my sweet wife’s kissies.
We now inhabit a vast empty nest,
though we never have confessed
how much we really miss our kids--
as three daughters put in their bids
for us to baby-sit so they can rest.
I always travel with my trusty camera,
searching for remote & deep caldera,
or those fabulous golden light moments,
or rusted vehicles with their pretty dents;
I might even find a smiling chimera.
Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub MTB
the title is what we get from grandchildren as they go home.
the image is a 125 year old man in Israel.