Seventy-one years old tonight,
Hearing aids plugged into my head.
Watching a Christmas movie alone,
All 65 years of my dog friends dead.
I remembered a Christmas gift when three,
And my father’s gift when he was four…
Were tucked away in a cardboard box,
And shouldn’t be hidden any more.
There’s Peter bear, now sixty-eight,
And Timothy bear, one hundred and three.
Both glad to be liberated,
I forgot them, they remembered me.
The fact they still provide comfort,
Is in no way a mystery…
They’re the only pieces left in my life,
Still a part of my history.
Happy Birthday!
ReplyDeleteFrom one that is waaay over the hill.