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The time draws close these days I'm alive
for in a few days I will be eighty-five.
An age I never thought I would see
with my youthful display of debauchery.
Chasing women, drinking wine in cars,
spending many hours, drinking in bars.
But in my defense, I started to run
and realized, in running, I was still having fun.
More fun than anything, that I did before,
except playing soccer when a header I did score.

The scurrying of paws
across the floor,
meant that I wasn't alone,
not anymore.
Creatures with claws, gathered
to leap,
so I rose unsteadily
to my aged, old feet.
Turning around, I had a glance
seeing my two grand dogs
starting to prance.
Glad to see me, at least on that day
and they came up to me
as if to say, " we miss you grandpa"
please throw the ball today.

Going down a trail,
when I was young.
A trial of mud slick
ruts, on which to run
astride a Honda Trail 55.
No helmet required
for the ride. Wet clay
and mud on that day,
a good thing to stay away.
When tires are narrow
they'll slip and slide
which provides a
sloppy, scary ride.
Down the hill, did I go,
slipping and sliding,
oh what a show.
Safe at last at the
muddy bottom
on this fine day
one early Idaho Autumn.

I'm thinking back to my
Navy days.
The memories are to still
there to amaze.
I was the Mail P.O. on
this small ship.
A Postal Clerk who
distributed the mail,
from my small pantry
sized jail.
I would sell money orders
on Pay Days, to those
who wanted to save.
When in Port, my duty
was to go to the FPO
or Fleet Post Office
to deliver/pick up
the US Mail.
When we were at sea,
there wasn't any activity.
On occasion, my Superior,
an Ensign, as I recall,
would tell me we were
going to make a Guard
Mail Run. Guard Mail
consisted of Confidential
or Secret information,
that was used for
upcoming fleet operations,
or our ship movement.
When this occurred, I would
strap on my Colt, Model 1911,
45 caliber, automatic and
follow 5 paces behind the Ensign.
I was there for protections. Problem
was there was not any ammo in my clip.
If something was to happen, I suppose
I would throw my gun at the attacker.
No such event occurred, but those
were very different times.

Away all boats, that was the call.
Away all boats to the far Atoll.
This wasn't a war but that command,
was in my mind when approaching glistening sand.
Our ship was anchored in a Tropical Lagoon
and Liberty Call would be announced soon.
Liberty for us, on this Tropical Isle,
would be to walk about, for a long while;
to observe and to help where we could
and to make sure that we understood,
that those we met were simple but good.
A brief glimpse, from my aged mind,
of an adventure, that will often remind
the differences, we can now see,
between the Races, more different than we.

No more cries, ere the
morning light.
No more whys of this
present plight.
No more random talks
without a notion.
No more discussion
with no emotions.
No more ringing
of the bell.
No more consideration,
gone to hell.
No more talks,
about anything.
No more happiness,
will it bring.
No more of life,
we know today.
No more my wife,
who will go away.

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