A poem for our birthdays

Sybil, wife of Mort who writes the blog Octogenarian, wrote this on the occasion of her recent 80th birthday, but reading through it, I decided it sounds pretty much like turning 70. At the mini-reunion at Moe and Nancy's, three members of the class were rejoicing at being returned to friends and family after recent serious health problems. So for all of us, whatever our age this year (I think 1939 would probably win out as a birth year for our class), here's her poem. I missed the reunion, but when I was in MM at Easter having coffee with Nancy and Lynne, I know I heard the importance of friendship many, many times, which is really what Sybil decides too.

AN OCTOGENARIAN'S LAMENT

I look in the mirror and see a strange face.
Oh, surely this image is in the wrong place.

There should be a picture, alive and aglow,
A young pretty girl with no signs of woe.

But alas I see a woman, who's old and worn,
With wrinkles and lines from the cares she has borne.

It's hard to accept that never again
Will I get the glances of much younger men.

I really feel like I'm out of the loop.
The computer keyboard to me Looks like alphabet soup.

The mouse is erratic and just won't behave
And I never remember the key for work that you save.

I don't have a Blackberry, or play an Nintendo game
And all the hip-hop music to me sounds the same.

I'm even beginning to feel quite bitter
That I have no idea what it means to TWITTER!

And so like the poet I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high O'er vale and hill
when all at once I saw a crowd
Not of golden daffodils, but of my wonderful friends.

I really should tell ol' Wordsworth
That a friend brings more joy than a daffodil.
Your love and compassion have helped me through the years
As you have patiently listened to my woes and my fears.

So thank you and bless you for helping me celebrate my special day.
Your devotion means more to me than I can say.

I love you all.

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Sybil gave permission to post this.