Don’t Grow Old

“Don’t grow old,”

my father says

–my father

who is ninety-two next week,

who has played baseball

in vacant lots,

who has relished ice shavings

delivered by horsedrawn wagons,

and gazed through St. Louis streetcar

windows before the Arch was imagined–

“Don’t grow old,”

my father sighs

through long distance phone wires

or maybe beyond them,

New Age wisdom

via satellites,


with love.

7 thoughts on “Don’t Grow Old

    1. I think your “wild” days prove your ability to not grow old…blessings and love to you my precious Lorraine!

  1. “New age wisdom via satellites, ageless with love — sounds so magical though i may not be understanding its deeper meaning…Happy Birthday to your father….Thank you for these words. 🙂

    1. Not sure there is a deeper meaning…just wonder of my father’s life experience, his love of life, his tender and determined heart. Thank you for your sweet birthday wishes, and company, dearest friend!

  2. Yes, I am grateful that both my father and mother live…although many miles fall between us. Their love is evident, such a support to me. Thank you for your sweet remarks, dear friend!

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