I was riding high
Leaving behind sixty nine
I celebrated the departure of sixty six
My born day is 9/6. Who needs 666?
I'd rather write a book
A gift to those who care;
Call it forgiveness.
I ponder therapy
It has gone too far with my Therapist
Finally, at seventy, I take the blame, the lead
The speed with which I'll feed gourmet dish
It percolates from within
When, why, how would you humbly sit?
Copyright © Iris Elizabeth Sankey-Lewis | Year Posted 2021
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