7200
I shake
my shaggy hirsute hair
in utter disbelief,
when the ed arrow
begat thine conception,
when meal ate mum
and octogenarian papa
begat their second
offspring and only son,
what now seems
to be a stepped-up pace,
where father time
doth affix another
candle to blow
where the passage
of life measured
in swiftly
tailored decades
denoting another birthday,
when with
the blink of an eye,
I vividly recall crow
wing like a Lil
whippersnapper of a boy
leisurely playing monopoly
for make-believe dough...
--------------------
nothing ranks
as the greatest gift
since being a father
twenty-one plus years ago
then bearing
witness to grow
increasing autonomy
of my two
precious daughters
whereby each
will become master
of their domain,
and meet a loving beau
(actually
thy eldest dates
a delightful young man
from Puerto Re Coe),
whom intuition
discerns would be
a near perfect match –
and this papa
intuits dough
nuts to dollars –
that such an
em man hint
gentle, humble,
intelligent lad –
doth hoe
pa fully become
the future groom
of said firstborn,
(which outcome
I know
wing couched
in a couple of poems
sent his way, and
no doubt
his smarts lo'
and behold revealed
the slightly obscure wish),
where love doth
most obviously
abound mo'
then prevailed
between myself
and bride o'
mine
these deuce score
plus (21+) years,
but now this Poe
whit aspires to recognize
the worthiness of she,
whose chose thyself
as a lifetime
groom cuz
peaceful status quo
avoiding animosity –
as thyself and
spouse gently row
merrily...merrily...merrily
our once
quite rickety craft
which oft times
in the past
needed a tow
off the craggy
shoals of constant woe.
