Octogenarian

For my good friends, Nancy and Bruce.

You’ve got a lot of memories, but some you can’t recall.
You’ve made a lot of friends, but some aren’t here at all.
You’ve weathered every storm, but now you have a weathered look.
You know the story’s end, having read most every book.

You’ve sampled most cuisine, but now it all just tastes the same.
You’ve suffered life’s travails, but now there’s no one left to blame.
You’ve waited for your time to come, yet now time whizzes by.
You’re thin where thick should be, and thick where thin would please the eye.

But, all in all, it’s not so grim to be as old as you.
You’ve done a lot of living and, by golly, you’re not through.
In midst of troubled times you’ve said, “If only I survive.”
And now that times have calmed, aren’t you glad to be alive?

Any enemies you’ve had are probably gone and laid to rest.
And no matter how those battles went, you’ve done them all one best.
You’ve made a lot of choices, mostly good but some mistaken.
You’ve done a lot of living, and come through it all unshaken.

You’ve felt the joy of living, many laughs and many tears.
So you must be doing something right to make it eighty years.