I sit here steeped in the stew
of my seventy-fifth year.
Native American flute music
plays on my Echo.
I watched some TV earlier and
it seems that old celebrities
are younger than I.
Music brings back memories
of a time living in Albuquerque
some 31-years ago. Through
thick and thin, I have come a
long way since then.
Sometimes I am amazed I
have made it this far. Several
years ago, I gave myself a
goal, to live as long as my
favorite writer, Mark Twain.
A silly wish indeed for longevity
in life is not entirely up to me.
But I managed to make it nonetheless.
Some have told me that seventy
five is not that old. You have many
years to go they have told me.
All I can say is given my waning
condition and the miles I have put
behind me, I accept the unpredictable
ways of the world and life.
Anytime now is fine by me.
Lots of thoughts, many a
memory. I can accept that
which is meant for me. I
am ready.
Steeped in the stew of my
seventy-fifth year, I sit here
listening and remembering.
Native American flute music
is soothing to my ear.
-30-
Chris Hanch 5-2-2022
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