GRAY MATTERS

I like old people. I always have. Even as a small child, I thought old people were fun and good to be around. Then, “old” to me was 40! I could never comprehend 80! That was way too far away. 

I am, now, almost 70 and I need to wrap my head around the hopes and fears of the winter of my life. I don’t want a “winter of discontent” but of content. 

I want to capture the hopes, fears, and concerns of my relatives and friends with honesty, empathy, sincerity, and some humor.

A favor, please: take some time. Read, sit, wait, think and remember and read the poem(s) again. I will be sincerely grateful if you do.

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Thank you.