Poem: Twenty-eight

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Twenty-eight and dreading thirty

life is one long road…often dirty

find a job, get married, buy a house

Soon you are a stay-at-home-mouse

Your hair is gray, your children grown

Husband retires, then you’re both at home

You’re growing old and grand-kids, too

Then you’ll remember you had things to do

You wanted to travel, to see the world

paint a masterpiece, get your hair curled

Dance in a rainstorm and write a play

walk across Paris on a sunny day

But time passes with deliberate intent

hair turns white; back and shoulders bent

Soon you’re back wishing you were twenty-eight

But it’s a wish that came just a little too late.

 

 

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2 thoughts on “Poem: Twenty-eight

  1. I read a quote somewhere that btw the ages of 15 and 32 don’t worry about settling down, just go live life and see the world, that kind of thing. I turned 31 in July and that’s what I tell myself. Also the verse: “There’s a time for everything under heaven . . . ” Everything happens when it should, if it should, whether we worry or not. I love your poem!

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