Living the Aging Life

Their aim is poor.

They shoot at will.

Doesn’t matter to them

just what they kill.

Theu aim at a foe.

Shoot you instead.

It doesn’t matter.

You’re just as dead.

Kids in car seats.

Babes in arms.

None are safe

from the bullet’s harms.

Tots in the yard,

playing by the street.

The shooters just kill

any one they meet.

My gate is open.

Please come in.

Sit down, and rest a spell.

If you will spend

some time with me,

I’d like it very well.

Take this Blessing and hold it close

and let it seep inside.

Warmth and safety will stay with you

and health love abide.

The candle is burning.

It’s burning for you.

It’s there as a beacon

to light your way through.

My house smells musty-dusty.

Smells of years of steady use.

Smells of cats and dogs and cookery

and dirt walked in on shoes.

My house could use an airing out.

My house needs Open Doors.

My house will get Fresh Air today

while I do all my chores.

I’m Very Good at buying things, and

adding to my store.

I’m Not So Good at ending

with things not-used any more.

Life doesn’t matter.

Not mine.  Not yours.

It’s grown unsafe

to step outdoors.

No one knows what we ought to do.

The path’s unclear.

We haven’t a clue.

Here’s to Happiness.

Here’s to Joy.

Here’s to a Gentle Heart.

Here’s to Success and

Sweet Content

with ev’ry thing you start.