Oh, my aging friends,
what illnesses and
infirmities await us?
We hope to sail
along indefinitely
in these bodies.
We know we'll
be intercepted
and boarded by pirates.
The rigging creaks.
Boat-loads of young
women pass.
At best, they ignore
us, at worst laugh
at our sad crafts.
The aging are
a patient armada sailing
under a tie-dyed flag.
Ah, my aging friends,
let's drink wine in moonlight
on this our rolling deck.
Hans Ostrom, 2012
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