It started at one,
strong and sure
The promise of more
Birthday punches are a rite it’s true
But as they wore on, so did you
I took its weak finish
with a laughing smirk
Forgot I was 59
didn’t you, jerk?
dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Quadrille #160: Poems that Pack a Punch
Yesterday on Quadrille Monday, De Jackson, aka WhimsyGizmo, got a little punch drunk at the bar and invited us to punch out quadrille. Yesterday was my birthday. My bestfiend, not a misspell – who had the good sense to be born exactly a year later, and I were joking about the childhood silliness of delivering birthday wishes via punches on the arm. One punch-wish for each year, sometimes the token punches are delivered gently, sometimes not. Because I am blessed to age like fine wine, I do not look my years. Unless a boxer, I imagine most would begin to tire before reaching my current vintage and thus today’s silly quadrille.