Uncle Bob's Words

Words, poetry, stuff like that

July 25, 2013

It occurred to me as I drove to work today:

Fifty years ago, I was in basic training,

Lackland AFB in sizzling San Antonio.

“I am in a state of grace,” I thought.

“In passing through that half century,

All the drama, the trauma, the joy,

I’ve survived.”


I admit the years of running did a number

On my lower spine and I’m a bit arthritic,

But I’m in no great pain and have no great angst.

I still work a full forty and change,

Walk three hours a week, live quietly,

Live alone, unlonely, finally.

Go, me, go!

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