Twenty-Three Skidoo

 

Long, long ago, three score and eight,

Vows exchange, this august date,

Two as one, life’s stream they’ll steer,

Had they not, I’d not be here.

 

Six summers pass, warm weather wanes,

Conceiving notions, ardor reigns,

Two twenty-threes, add and adhere,

Had they not, I’d not appear.

 

The pool of life, is full and rich,

To not take plunge, one digs one’s ditch,

To warm the bench, in life’s big game,

Means I won’t pass on, family’s name.

 

Life’s truths like these, it bears repeating,

Fail to fulfill, means a fate fleeting,

My twenty-threes, doomed to expire,

To nothingness, I’ll soon retire.

 

Life cycle’s acme, not transcended,

My oblivion, to be bookended,

I once was nothing, in this sphere,

One of these days, I’ll not be here.

 

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