Seventy (May 5, 2013 )
By Bob Downing
“Three score and ten” the Scriptures do say
Are the days of our years; we then “fly away.” *
An endless time…through the eyes of the young…
Becomes hauntingly brief when life’s song is near sung.
The horizons once faced are now memories long past.
The victories and triumphs so cherished did not last.
The failures, the heartaches, the losses, and schemes
Of a life poorly spent bring nights’ tortured dreams.
The curtains of our minds in the dark of the night
Draw open to reveal a troubling sight…
Unlimited youth with its promise and fun
Has vanished away like the dew in the sun.
The desires, the passions, the zest for the day
Are like snowflakes that fall and soon melt away.
The finish, once distant, looms alarmingly near
And the memories of life become ever so dear.
The goals, once assumed, are now elusively caught,
And the emotion of love becomes merely a thought.
Deeds once accomplished with hardly a strain
Are now deeds but dreamed and seldom without pain.
But continue we must, and through effort and strength
The days of our lives may be increased in length.*
With happiness and love and good deeds to lend
“Three score and ten” could be when we begin.
*Psalm 90:10
“Nothing Rhymes with ‘Sixty’” (May 5, 2003 )
By Bob Downing
Nothing rhymes with sixty, as one turns the annual page.
Nothing rhymes with sixty; it’s an awkward, frustrating age!
Too young to be old; too old to be young
Concerned your life’s song has already been sung.
The memories of the past grow longer…yet fade,
While the future once dreamed seems fainter in life’s shade.
Helpless and hapless, trapped in time’s ceaseless tide,
Then saved from the gloom by, “Hey, Papaw! Come outside!”
The message becomes clear. It’s not the future or past,
But the present is where our legacy is cast.
Children and grandchildren, the caress of a wife,
The closeness of a family…therein lies life.
With His hand to guide us as we travel along
Everything rhymes with sixty…if you play the right song!
Muses and Meditations upon Reaching the
Fiftieth Rung on the Ladder of Life (May 5, 1993 )
By Bob Downing
Methinks it be not super nifty
When one turns the magic fifty.
Forsooth, it seems both bod’ and mind
Hath nature ravaged, most unkind!
Unbeknownst, time took its toll,
And now, though willing in heart and soul,
I call to my feet, “I’m in a running mood!”
They answer back, “Forget it, Dude!
The only thing we want to feel
Is a cushioned footstool under the heel!”
Durst I not know? I anguish and weep
That now I choose an afternoon’s sleep
Instead of football, baseball, or track.
And incentive to work? I totally lack!
“To be or not to be!” The question rages.
The answer ballyhooed down through the ages.
But as for me, my response is thrifty,
“Don’t ask me, Bub, I just turned fifty!”
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