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A Personal Census Poem
In nineteen hundred four and sixty,
When staying stoned seemed real nifty,
I thought age made one dull and nerdy,
And trusted no one over thirty.
The years have passed, my views have changed,
My valuations rearranged,
I now judge young folks shallow, drifty,
And trust no one who ain’t reached fifty.
Soon from this author: This God-Awful Political Season (In Verse)
2 Responses to “A Personal Census Poem”
Good poem Michael. I remember a time when I thought I had everything figured out, or at least was on reasonably good terms with the things I hadn’t figured out. At 59 I’ve drifted away from much of that earlier certainty. I may have more knowledge and experience these days, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss the resilient confidence of my youth.
Hi Zephyr,
All thing considered, I prefer the knowledge and experience to the resilient confidence — the latter having proven less resilient than I thought.
Many thanks for the nice words about my verse,
Mike