At ten, we had no pretense of knowing much of life.
We depended on our moms and dads to keep us free from strife.
By twenty we’d convinced ourselves we nearly knew it all.
Forgetting admonitions that prides goes before a fall.
At thirty we’d matured a bit and recognized mistakes.
Successes we’d enjoyed along with quite a few heartaches.
By forty we saw wrinkles and feared half our lives was gone.
Our parents seemed much smarter with each new passing dawn.
At fifty we discovered what went wrong when we were young.
And questioned the false premises which our whole life we had clung.
By sixty we conjectured what could take us to our grave.
We knew that most our life had passed, but decided to be brave.
At seventy most accepted their ordained mortality.
All we did was learn to face each passing year with glee.
By eighty health declined a bit and most of us had ills.
Each day our biggest challenge was remembering to take pills.
What to say of ninety? Will we live one decade more?
There’s not much that is new in life – we’ve seen it all before.
We’re the fastest growing group of folks demographically.
Our juniors worry we’ll bankrupt Social Security.
Our eyesight is not what it was; our hearing isn’t either.
We’re offered canes and wheelchairs; most of us want neither.
We only wish to live lives in tranquility and bliss.
And when we’re gone, we’ll be remembered good friends others miss.
October 18, 2018
For my mother’s 90th birthday