Lynne

Celebrate at sixty-five –
youth, career and kids survived,
BCG, two husbands past,
braless through the sixties blast,
antsy at a southern prom,
proud success as Katy’s mom.

You bathed your bones in rapid rivers,
climbed to where the eagle quivers,
rode your bike with strength and speed
so no one calls you knobby-kneed,
on and on, your brain still edits
strategy and carbon credits.

You picked a man informed and ready
to be your partner, keep you steady,
opened up your Lincoln house,
opened up your Lincoln spouse,
Viagra, K-Y, estrogen,
chemical coitus, one big grin.

You found the opportunity
to build a new community,
old chums too, you’ve kept in touch
with those who shared with you so much,
and earned a deep felt loyalty
from us whose friend you’ll always be.


Yes, life you challenged one-on-one
sometimes lost, sometimes won,
but now your aching body veers
closer to the Advil years.
Not yet, you shout, your clenched jaw set,
I’ve more to do, I ain’t dead yet.