Well, another year has passed and I am now sixty-one. I wanted to write a poem about it - and I did, but I got unexpected company and they stayed quite a while. My wonderful new friend Shannon - I'm not sure of her exact age - between 10 and 12, though - signed me on at Supermodel.com.... Oh my... It was a nice visit, but I didn't get to finish the poem I started this morning. I hated it anyway, so I wrote a new one. Kind of sucky, but it is a poem and it is my birthday, so you have to cut me some slack, right?
Not to toot my own horn - but look what my wonderful, mangificent, niece did for me over at her blog. Am I not the luckiest aunt in the world?
SIXTY ONE! AGGGGGHHHH!
I wanted to write a poem about being sixty-one
But I didn’t know what to write
I don’t like the number sixty one
The birthday’s fine with me
But I much prefer sixty or even sixty-two
No idea why I feel this way
I didn’t like being 33 either.
Silly, I know
But here it is.
Another year passed
I don’t feel any older
Or worse, yet
But the clock has spoken
I’m a year more senior
Hopefully this will win me some respect at least
I’m hoping I can persuade my achy knees
To lighten up on me
“I’m old,” I tell them.
I know it doesn’t work that way
But it can’t hurt to ask
I’m doing what I can to milk the event
And get me some attention
My inner child seems to like the older me
She’s stepping out a bit more
I’m happy for her
It’s about time she had some fun
So that’s my birthday poem
Sometimes the best things in life
Start out unwanted
I’m hoping sixty one will be that way
A great year… even if it is a creepy number
Wish I could make it magically real for you.