February Seventh

Today’s a date I won’t forget
For it’s the day when we first met.
The sparks were there and yes, they flew
When you saw me and I saw you.

We knew inside that we would last;
Now 40 plus 2 years have passed.
Though age and stress have left their mark
They haven’t doused that primal spark.

I picture us so long ago,
Amazed at how we didn’t know
The ups and downs that we would weather,
Slogging through this life – together.

The Neighborhood Gyms

The neighborhood gyms
Have huge windows so we
Can observe all the workouts
And want what we see.

We’re supposed to feel guilty
We’re not in there, too
So our abs and our pecs
Could be proudly on view.

But as I pass them by
It's not envy I feel
For the pumping and bouncing
Don’t have much appeal.

Though what strikes me is that
Back when youth was my guide
I most likely'd be one
Of those athletes inside.

Now I wonder while watching
Them cycle and spin
If they realize they’ll soon
Be the ones gazing in.

Game Time

The stores are stocked with chips and beer
And chicken wings galore
For munching during Super Bowl.
Well, who could ask for more?

I’m not a football fan, but yes,
I’ll watch it for a while
In hopes that a commercial
Will induce a laugh or smile.

Tonight at game time, most TV’s
Will show this football fare
But as to who will win, my guess
Is very few will care.

The Radio

We listen to the radio
At home or in the car.
It's really such good company
No matter where we are.

We flip the stations back and forth
From classical to jazz,
With rock & roll contributing
In that cool way it has.

The bathroom has a radio
That's set to just the news,
With traffic and the weather
And occasional reviews.

Though some prefer the quiet 
We love music in the air
And the trusty AM/FM
Does its job to keep it there.

A Job for Life

A job that's appointed for life
Is bound to cause some people strife
     For over the years
     Annoyance appears;
That goes, too, for husband and wife.

So the Justices of the High Court
Who have no one to whom they report
     Should be forced to bow out
     And relinquish their clout
Well before they've a final retort.

Though if Ginsburg lives 20 more years
It might quiet a few of my fears
     For if Gorsuch gets in
     The Republicans win
And I'll drown all my sorrows in beers.

Entitled

A book requires a title
As a movie does, or play.
We take the title to a car
When we no longer pay.

A royal has a title
Whether king or prince or queen
And Mr., Ms. or Mrs. mark us
On the postal scene.

Some people feel entitled
To much more than they deserve,
But what we’d call them oftentimes
Stays hidden in reserve.

A Nickel a Can

They paw through the garbage,
Retrieving the cans
And bottles to get the deposit
Which, likely, have come from
Apartments nearby where more wait
In a pantry or closet.

A nickel a can, which
Means nothing to most
Is the source of their urban survival.
The beer and the soda
We drink and we toss, unaware
They await its arrival.

Imagine depending
On other folks’ trash
To furnish the means to keep living.
If only more thought of
The souls such as these,
Perhaps there’d be more to our giving.