16 Aug 2016 – Sixty-Something

Becoming fossil,
all my wood has turned to stone.
The world so different,
seen through sixty-something eyes!
A friend’s teenager,
seventeen and sweet as pie,
at last I meet her….

I used to want one!
Lord have mercy, they’re not ripe!
Bite one – they’re sour!
Give ’em twenty years – at least –
a few rain showers,
snow and frost to nip their heels,
they’ll taste much better!