By M. E. Riddle
In the first thirty years of life
The world evolved around Mike
At fifty-eight, I got it straight
And now live the life of a saint.
A single thought haunts
That this is it, there’s only one dance
And betting life’s’ pages
Not knowing the chance.
And that is that
That is to say
No more tomorrow
No more new day.
© Copyright 2016 meriddle. All rights reserved.
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