Poem: Old?

Old?

By Bill Lowe, Sterling

 

When I was younger, I thought thirty was quite old,

but as I passed twenty nine, I found lo and behold,

it’s not near what I guessed, nor what I’d been told;

you can’t cast everyone’s live in the very same mold.

 

Age has some limits; size and shape have them too.

Adventures I have done, which I would never undo,

weren’t done until thirty was finally passed through.

Many enjoyable opportunities need a senior view.

 

Then came forty and fifty, at one time ancient dates;

but not old at all in the comfort of the United States.

I may get a couple unwanted arguments and debates

but old age, it’s a future time which out there awaits.

 

Now I am well past sixty, pushing my seventh decade;

you could say, a good share of my dues are now paid,

but with a big government, I’m feeling more betrayed,

and I’m not looking forward to Medicare or Medicaid.

 

So with this older age, have I earned any rights at all;

have I any say so, get my choice or make my own call?

Have our bureaucrats backed us again against the wall

while throwing us another and still another curve ball?

 

I guess time may tell, or maybe the information I lack,

but I don’t like spending retirement watching my back,

because our governmental system’s way out of whack.

God needs be uplifted to put the US back on the track.

 

 

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