The elderly, elderly,

antediluvian bodies,

frail as Yeats',

"tattered coat upon a stick".

Dim eyes grope for

medicine bottle and

hot water bag.

Fading lucidity,

morning stiffness,

harbinger of rigormortis,

a quotidian dose of the

dullness of boredom,

long lonesome days,

no one to hold you anymore.


A factoid informs:

Most everyone waits for one

more birthday before the

final sleep.


Wanting more:

Young men in heat garner

notches on their belt,

studious students strive for straight A's,

fat burghers count money in their sleep,

olympians sweat for their personal best.


Live long enough you wonder:

Was that my last encounter with love?

Can't I blow out just one more birthday candle?


Milton P. Ehrlich