Inconvenient Truths Poem by Richard St. Clair

I've stopped prognosticating of tomorrow!
Today is plenty, then some, to endure!
My passions, I confess, are less than pure,
But I've no seeds left to implant a furrow.
Yes, aging has its bennies and its propers,
Discounting all the aches and pains thus far:
I've grown a little wiser, less than par,
But shot no eagles, nowise any toppers.
Some say I'm on a fool's path as a seeker,
But lest I tell them that I'm now a finder,
I end up stroking egos, though it's kinder,
Yet blurt out news to rend their comfort bleaker.
All and all, I call out as a Stentor,
And spurn the easy way that's surely gentler.