Fate's Random Tosses Poem by George Twitchell

I’m learning now about old age,
And hearing seniors share their pains.
From common colds up to migraines,
They’d like their ills to be front page.

But me, I know we all do share
Infirmities, a common bond.
Sometimes mine cause me to despond
And sharing might relieve despair.

But yours are yours and mine are mine.
Were we to trade, we might decree
Our own to be the best, you see.
I'll not, to you, my own consign.

The list of ills is long and grim.
Fate's fickle finger throws the dice
And losing is no paradise.
Sometimes it's me; sometimes it's him.

But that's just how the game is done.
We hope the wins outweigh the losses.
And while I live Fate's random tosses,
I'll let the others think I won.