Friday, July 6, 2012


gives is the prompt


We who enjoy freedom scarcely know what freedom is.
All our lives we've felt as free as air;
Free to say whatever words may come into our minds;
Free to choose whatever clothes to wear.
Free to come and free to go and free to disagree;
Free to live alone or choose a mate.
Free to shout our slogans, should we wish to, in the street;
Free to love and even free to hate.
We get annoyed if something should restrict us in some way;
We feel it is our right to live unchained.
We don't even notice freedom; it's like the air we breath,
Not something strange that has to be attained.
But those who've never known it, must wonder how it feels
To live without restrictions every day.
So let us enjoy our blessings and consider those without,
Trusting that all may live the freedom way.


Fourteen years ago, when I was sixty-seven
I felt that I was very near to death.
Seventy was looming and that felt like a sentence;
I anticipated, soon, my final breath.
Thirty years ago, when I was just a chicken,
I felt that being fifty was just hell;
I remember feeling 'finished', all washed-up and past my 'use-by'
 I thought, quite soon, I'd hear the funeral knell.
Fifty years ago, when I was only thirty,
The thought of being thirty blew my mind.
Leaving the lovely twenties, with their romance and their passion
Made me feel I'd left my very self behind!
Yet seventy years  ago, when I was eleven years old, a baby,
I looked forward to 'real life' with ecstasy.
I woke up every morning with a feeling of excitement,
Wondering what the day would mean to me.
Well, I've reached the age of eighty one and life's once more delicious;
A new day comes, sad thoughts are for the birds!
Look at SIXTY, look at SEVEN and tell me what you see there.
I can tell you what you see, you see just words.

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