When long hair hit the last part of the 60’s,
I’d been drafted, made to sport a short “do.”
Smoking pot, black light posters, and acid,
would faze out long before I’d be through.
My friends were bearded peacenik hippies;
I kept my face clean shaven, but had no say.
After surviving a career in military service,
I grew a beard: no longer auburn, but gray.
As a professor and a dad I raised five sons;
avoided joysticks and playing video games.
Never zoomed about town on a skateboard,
a techno fossil, they all loved just the same.
My sons are up north producing grandkids.
I’m chillin’ like a villain here in Key West;
missing out being a part of fond memories,
but after all I’ve been through, it’s the best.
We’d all like a chance at doing things over;
but as we age, much gets impossible to do.
Putting off until tomorrow’s quite foolish;
no telling what card will be drawn for you.
What happens in life is a matter of timing.
I was always ahead or behind of the trends.
Today, arthritis makes joysticks too painful;
but skate boarding’s a breeze in Depends.