Beautiful Old Broads talk more about birthdays

Dear Ones,

Birthdays.  As we grow old, like ivy,  they are entwined in memories.  Turning 18, our 21^st.  That was a big deal.  And of course 40.  A landmark one.  And then before we can blink, we’re  65!  Life is  swift.  However, no one has written or celebrated being 78 as far as I know.  So having just turned that age, I thought I’d write a poem about it.  Hope it stirs your heart.  Isn’t that what poems are for?   

On being 78

                                                                                                By Patti Ross

            I’m deliciously free and chirpy and chipper

            And terrified and scared and wary and weak

            What will the future bring?  How will it unfold?

            I can’t google the answer to that now can I?

                                                                        I’m old.

            Times I feel such joie de vivre…such bliss

            Savor a stray kiss that lands on my cheek like a breeze

            Reminding me I’m loved.  Oh please.

            I petition the saints yet life won’t stand still though I  

            Genuflect twice.  No dice. 

            Maybe there’s a “Dummy’s Guide to being 78”?

            But wait, upon reflection I’m hearing joyful notes surround me.

            And a Sunday morning softness slips over my fears.

                                                                         I’m 78.