Fifty Five

Wine improves with aging,
So does imported cheese.
My life has turned to vinegar,
So, can I stop aging, please?

I wrote a poem at fifty-four,
It wasn’t bad, I think.
But that was a year ago,
Now, I need a drink.

I don’t really feel that old.
Age is all in the mind, I see.
So, I guess I’ll pick a random time,
Let’s say, I’m forty-three.

In spite of all the Facebook posts,
My expression is still stony.
I’ve finally admitted to myself,
I’ll never get a pony.

Author: Blind John Ellsworth

Blind John Ellsworth (1960- ), a (questionable) poet and sometimes Texas bluesman. He has recorded one spoken-word album (thankfully unreleased), since he is still trying to learn to play guitar. (Lack of musical skills is what makes him a poet and not a lyricist. Plus, he can’t write music.) View all posts by Blind John Ellsworth