My frosty age
I am sixty today. As much goodwill as misunderstanding of the time and its meaning has been sent me. I say that save for creaking bones and shorter breath nothing has changed in many years. Excluding chance and fate I will go on, perhaps as
Dylan Thomas says about his father; and I to mine, who died two years ago on Christmas Day. Listen to it and thanks. I am not too old to learn.
3:59 PM / December 23, 2006
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