A car was parked illegally;
The hydrant
wasn’t cleared,
Plus it was
by a nursing home
And might
have interfered.
I never
would have noticed it,
But signage
did impart
That a tow
truck would be coming
‘Cause the
engine wouldn’t start.
Thee note
said “Please!” perhaps to cops
Who rarely
have the choice
About issuing
a ticket to
A reprobate
Rolls Royce!
Age does not define us,
But our choices
surely do.
How I live
my life may not
At all
appeal to you.
We have to
find that comfort zone
Between our
younger verve
And, in our
later years, that well
Of vigor in
reserve.
Some people choose
to stay at home,
Quite happy
to embrace
The extra
time to just relax,
Not going
anyplace.
While
others, with the end in sight,
Have trips
they rush to plan,
Locations
where they’ve never been,
To travel while
they can.
There is no
right or wrong in this;
All people
must decide
If they’re
ready to step off the train
Or stay on
for the ride.
Toss a smidgen
To a pigeon
And you know
he’ll eat it,
Though once
fed
A crumb of
bread,
You can’t
get him to beat it.
Still, what’s
worse
And worth a
curse
Are seagulls
if you’re snacking,
For I’ve
found
When food’s
around,
They
sometimes try attacking.
My advice –
You’ll pay
the price
By tempting
those with feathers,
For they
know
Where humans
go,
There’s food
in any weathers.
In an alphabet book that my grandson once liked,
One page unfamiliar
to me
Which, in
turn, got my curiosity spiked,
Was the
animal listed for P.
For a
pangolin isn’t your average beast,
But an
anteater covered in scales,
Looking
quite prehistoric from head to, not least
Of its
features, those long spiky nails.
It waddles
in search of its main source of food,
For which it
employs every sense,
Yet if
threatened, it is very quickly subdued;
Curling up is
its only defense.
I learned
all about this today on TV,
But I’m glad
that awareness was raised
In an alphabet
book on which, ages ago,
Both my
grandson and I once had gazed.
In a video for my friend’s birthday,
Her family and pals did record
Their own message of varied good wishes
And watching it was her reward.
There were tributes from both of her daughters,
Her husband and grandkids and friends,
Plus some photos from happy occasions,
Where the smiles showed that fun never ends.
Some told stories of camp, school and teaching;
Others sang or recited a poem,
But all shared so much love in the telling
That the messages surely hit home.
I loved watching it all put together,
Though I didn’t know everyone there,
But I’m glad I was part of the medley
Letting Fran know how much we all care.
I always thought that exercise
Meant pumping up your heart,
Which every sport, to some extent,
Does right off, from the start.
In classes I took years ago,
Aerobics was the theme.
We marched and jumped and stepped,
The workout every heart-pump’s dream.
Yet other types of working out
Have always had their place,
Though never offering a skill
I thought I could embrace.
Until I tried a stretching class
Without a single jump,
Just using weights and movement
With my heart a steady pump.
And man, I was exhausted!
Which to me was a surprise
And allowed me to see exercise
Through very different eyes.
If all your basic needs are met,
Your bills
are paid, no cause to fret,
Whatever food
you want, you’ll get –
It’s then
you can be kvetching.
For if you
have no place to sleep
And hunger
makes you want to weep,
The only
thoughts your mind can keep
Might deal
with budget stretching.
It takes
some chutzpah to complain
When others’
lives are filled with pain,
Yet human
nature can’t refrain
From some
entitled retching.
