TIDBITS
HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY BOOMERS
(2011)
The class of '64
Is turning 65.
The odyssey continues
As we press on to survive.
We've had our share of tragedies.
We've had our triumphs too.
Determined we forge ahead
To see this journey through.
True, there've been regrets.
The past is a learning curve.
We acknowledge our mistakes
And move forth to only serve.
We hope perhaps we've left our mark
For generations to come;
That they will know us as trailblazers;
And will know where we came from.
Happy birthday one and all.
We are still an awesome crew
With vivid memories to share
And visions yet to pursue.
THE FINAL PITCH
For all the moans and groans,
For all the bad pitches that were hurled,
Those summer evenings at the ballpark
I would not have missed for the world.
There were nights we sat shivering
Thinking we must be insane.
Yet we still found we were disappointed
When the game was called because of rain.
Bum calls by the umps!
How the crowd did roar.
They booed, hissed and jeered
Until they could yell no more.
The camaraderie among fans is uplifting.
A quick hello and a grin;
For we all have the common goal
Of seeing our team win.
But when the final out is called;
When the final game is played,
We must say goodbye for awhile;
But the memories never fade.
It is to the future we look.
It's where we hang a hope and a dream
To next year when we feel the summer warmth
And once again become a team.
HAPPY BOITDAY, GIRL!
My intentions are admirable,
But I feel like such a flake.
While waiting to give you a call
I found I could not stay awake.
Being "retired" is exhausting.
It messes with my head.
That's why I feel so comfortable
Clinging lovingly to my bed.
I try to stay alert
But my thoughts run very deep
And exerting all that extra energy
Puts me right to sleep.
This winter has been brutal.
My hands and feet are numb.
I sit here writing and wondering
When the warm weather will come.
Sometimes I think I'll scream
If another flake hits the ground;
But I merely grab the snow shovel
And pile all of it in a mound.
So Happy Boitday, girl.
Being old isn't so bad.
We face it boldly on a daily basis
And view it simply as a fad.
To my father we're just kids
And life has just begun.
So let's hit the ground running
And show them how it's done.
WHAT OTHERS DO NOT KNOW
It is the daily strain
That methodically erodes our will.
It binds our bodies and our minds,
Denying us dreams we cannot fulfill.
It is the chronic, worn down state of exhaustion
That others cannot know.
It is the absence of understanding
That can make us feel so low.
It is the mourning of a lifestyle
That we never can regain
Except in the occasional retelling
Through the recollections we retain.
It is the squaring of our shoulders
Announcing we can do it on our own;
While our minds race wildly
Trying to confront life all alone.
Sometimes reaching out for others
Is simply beyond our grasp;
Leery of the hand that is extended;
Afraid the burden is too vast.
It's praying for a miracle,
The one that may never appear.
It is the clinging of a tenet
That can assuage our inner fear.
But in the end we only have ourselves;
In this play we take the lead role
Allowing us to live day to day
In our hunger to maintain control.
AGING
Though the mind is still keen ,our body belies our age.
The vicissitudes of our existence still thrive.
It makes us who we are
And catalogs us in some remote archive.
By degrees we have become senior citizens
With the wisdom that age implies.
If only the young understood
This is merely a guise.
For though we have experience
And could proffer sage advice,
The truth is no more than this:
In every life there is sacrifice.
Yet there are joys surrounding us,
Challenges to surmount;
And, yes, even a good meal
Using our senior citizen discount.
With an unwavering belief in self;
With the knowledge that we have grown,
We are optimistic in a pessimistic world
For a future still unknown.
YEARNINGS
I long to hear your laughter.
I long to see your smile;
To take away the pain
That has made life such a trial.
I long to have the strength
To lift the burden from your shoulders.
I long to evince kindness
And make life a little less colder.
I long for the rapport
That once sprung from our lips;
The sharing of refreshments,
The giggles between sips.
When you moved on in the world,
Determination made you blind,
For you never noticed the soul
And the heart you left behind.
But I saw they were missing.
The shadows and sighs of defeat.
How I long for those days
When we thought life was such a treat.
GOING TO THE DOGS
I swear it was a pony
That left his calling card;
But it was just a gigantic dog
That had meandered into my yard.
Leash laws are immaterial for owners
Who fawn over a four legged gem.
Laws apply to everybody,
Everybody but them.
Quickly I installed a small wire fence
To protect the green grass;
And prayed the doggie owners
Would show a little class.
Now I'm on the front porch
Watching a neighborhood kid
Mow down my wire fence
When his bike went into a skid.
So upon hearing a youthful voice outside
I scamper out to stand guard
To assure the safety of my fence
And make sure it isn't jarred.
This may seem quite petty.
I guess I'm the neighborhood hag.
I'm not too concerned about the title,
Though I certainly would not brag.
To reiterate, the purpose of the fence
Is to keep the dogs at bay.
The yard decorations that they leave
Are turning my dyed hair gray.