I have played in the creek.
Built a dam.
Swung from the vines.
Climbed the lightening-struck tree.
Built a fort.
Hid a treasure.
Those were the days.
.
I saw JFK
the day before he was killed.
And then it was Martin Luther King.
And then Robert.
I watched Neil Armstrong walk on the moon.
The world changed so fast.
Those were the days.
.
I grew up.
I dated girls.
Went to college.
Dated girls.
Got a job.
Dated girls.
Those were the days.
.
I helped build a company.
It grew and I grew.
I made mistakes.
We won awards.
I got married (again).
I made friends for life.
Those were the days.
.
We were young.
Or so it seemed.
We dressed to the nines.
We danced till midnight.
And toasted the promise of tomorrow.
Old friends, new friends.
Those were the days.
.
My hair is thin.
I’m always tired.
No dances now.
Friends have disappeared.
But the sun shines.
And blessings flow.
These are the days.
.
These are the days.
.
Copyright: joseph e bird, 2015
July 25, 2015 at 8:03 pm
You should keep writing your poetry.
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July 25, 2015 at 8:07 pm
Yes. I aspire to mediocrity. The only way to reach that level is to keep writing.
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July 27, 2015 at 12:56 am
^This comment made me laugh. And I also get it. Keep writing, indeed. 🙂
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July 25, 2015 at 8:50 pm
You make me cry. I’m really proud of you Joe.
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July 25, 2015 at 9:08 pm
Thanks. Sorry I made you cry. I’ll be better next time.
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July 25, 2015 at 10:57 pm
Not all of your friends have disappeared. Keep writing.
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July 26, 2015 at 8:22 am
Thanks, Larry.
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July 27, 2015 at 7:37 am
Shoot, Ashley, you flew past mediocrity a long time ago. Thanks for the encouragement.
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July 28, 2015 at 9:13 am
This poem has a Robert Frost feel to it – nicely done!
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July 28, 2015 at 1:05 pm
Thanks, Jonie.
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