Monday, May 3, 2010

My Nothing Age

A Roundabout

Ah, there is something ‘bout my age
I do not like at all.
I sound the fool,
But it ain’t cool;
Sixty-eight is just dull.

Complaining takes a lot of gull,
But I’m a stubborn mule
About this thing.
It has no ring,
No ripple in the pool.

It is not a biggie; doesn’t rule.
Just an inbetween ping,
Another page.
It has no rage,
No sputter, spit or drool.

It is a year that does not sing,
Not really for a sage.
But fall plus fall,
I’ll get to call
Seventy center stage.

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