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Twenty-eight's a time to settle down,
Work a couple of jobs, have some kids,
Eventually, burst forth into bloom.
No time for schemes of glory now, no room
To set up stars. Your dreams have lead-lined lids.
Yet knee-deep in love, you earn your crown.
Easy now to leave the golden loom,
Instead to weave your life in green and brown,
Giving reluctant nods to lower bids.
However, Earth still wears its nuptial gown
That you might wake each day its passionate groom.
All poems: copyright by
Nicholas Gordon
Free scrapbook poems permission to use
provided by the author. |