And now for something a little different…
My father was born in 1949
He played the drums in his youth
He had long hair in his 20s and embraced life as a hippie –
I think having kids destroyed his carefree spirit
He was still funny
life of the party
but our home was full of stress and anxiety
Trying
always trying to be more extraordinary than his life allowed
I remember when my dad started saying his parents were acting odd
I was ten
“They’re getting old,” I’d hear him say
Now it’s his turn
saying odd things thinking they are funny (they’re not)
saying says things that make me cringe
I look at him
in his shrinking frame
speaking politically incorrect words
with conspiracies in his head
I say to myself, “He’s getting old,
and that’ll be you one day too”
PS – My father was not born in 1949 😉 Poetic licence at its finest.

Yes, the unavoidable truth. Very relatable.
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Thanks for your reflection VJ 💜
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My pleasure
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Poetic licence definitely at its finest 😅. But it’s a sad truth though. That’s life, I guess. You’ve captured it so well here.
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That’s lif of alright. I’m glad to hear I captured it well. That’s very encouraging. You never know how poetry like this will be received. Cheers for the feedback 👍🙂
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Enjoy this different piece.
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Thanks Cassa. Glad to hear it.
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This really shows your range. It’s so good.
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Oh wow, thanks Ben. Means a lot.
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Welcome. Appreciate you work. You’re talented.
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This is a profound poem. I remember a song by Shasha Alex Sloan ‘Older’. Wonderful write ST.
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Oh, this is very kind of you to say Kritika. Much appreciated 💜
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(hearts) Enjoy your vacation!
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