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BECOMING SEVENTY 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 © | Year Posted 2021

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Date: 4/21/2021 6:17:00 AM
Great poem, Iris!
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