Prime Time Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Prime Time
Well, Max, you wouldn't understand,
a dog is not a human, after all.
I'm in my forties, says my gut
and the chronology, it matters not,
they say that canines live too fast
they use up seven for each given year.
Perhaps, with humans, Krauts like me
it is the opposite because of genes,
and I have started drinking amber beer
just yesterday, the prime of my sweet teens.
LOVE it! ! ! ! ! ! ! Wit with a message conveyed so it rolls off the toungue.
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5/5/2024 5:25:52 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Subtle nostalgic sadness, at its most poignant in the final line. Dog year example of chronology well-conveyed. Sobering and engaging writing. Warm regards, admiration of your writing diversity, and a score of 10 from Gina.