97
A Birthday Sonnet
It sure is nice of y’all to come, to cheer /
my hundredth birthday party. (Years galore, /
but only ninety-seven.) Golden year /
at ninety-eight; without a house no more. //
(This is your house now.) Watch! My knee, it’s sore. /
I only walk inside because it’s cold. /
My friend is dead and gone at one…
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to The Rest to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.