I ring my friends abroad, at home
Some are Belgians, some are "Sloane"
And learn that each and every one
Has illness, death or worse, to come.
The age old tenets then are true
Past fifty life may go askew.
The sun shines in the sky, thank God
Be grateful for the paths we've trod.
The friends we've made, the sights we've seen
The past will always happy seem.
I wonder, as I catch your eye
What you will do; I must not pry.
But health must henceforth be a goal
That we must share; age takes its toll.
I would not like our loving nest
To become a source of future stress...
(c) Poet in the woods 2014
(written in 2002)