by Dave Fitzgerald
Its early September
and 40 is fast approaching.
With each new dawn
and high pitched squeal
of the alarm clock,
I wake with a battery
of new aches and a feeling
as I move into mine,
that I start writing my memories
before I lose them forever.
Posted on 09/10/2007
Copyright © 2024 Dave Fitzgerald
|Member Comments on this Poem
|Posted by Tony Whitaker on 09/10/07 at 08:45 AM
Nice piece Dave.Being 53 I see you as a young man! lol! Anyway, Happy 40th and learn to stop and smell the roses of life before you are gone. This is the only life you will ever have! Cheers!
|Posted by Alisa Js on 09/12/07 at 01:34 AM
Nicely done, Dave...but do remember, life is made up of moments lived, each one complete within itself.
|Posted by Kyle Anne Kish on 09/19/07 at 02:53 AM
You said it quite well, Dave. I didn't start thinking that way until I reached the downside of 45, but we all have our 'time.' "With each new dawn and high pitched squeal of the alarm clock,..." ... I especially liked the way these lines were put together. There's just something about them that struck me. Nice work.
|Posted by Michelle Angelini on 09/19/07 at 02:57 AM
So true Dave. Seems if I don't have something right in front of me in print, I forget. Oh yes, I'd love to have 40 back again. I like the way you said this. There - a good comment and a good rating. ;-) And, I even signed my name.