Lawrence S. Pertillar (February/'47 / Connecticut, USA)
I was not hoping I'd forget,
I turned 66.
It just seems that 65 came and left so quick,
Becoming 66 was like...
And 67 is just eleven years from 78!
And I remember thinking that being 80...
Had been for those who lived to be that age,
Were dinosaurs who survived...
And were on display in convalescent homes.
Hey, I was young then.
With only wishes to see 21.
And with that done I am now 66.
Without tricks or magic.
But with 67 coming and staring at me,
I am still proud to admit to anyone...
The best years of my life are yet to come.
But do you mind if I asked a question? '
No. No, go right ahead.
'I notice you've been keeping your fingers crossed.
Is there a reason for that?
Do you suffer from arthritis? '
Yes I do.
I didn't think anyone would notice.
'What do you take for it? '
Lots of prayer.
But I'm considering getting a rabbit's foot to wear.
Comments about this poem (~66~ by Lawrence S. Pertillar )
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