A few years ago, my best friend-in-law, Keith, wrote a poem for my birthday. I think it would be fair to share it so all the World will know how highly esteemed I am.
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TO EARL 1999
In Southern Utah's sunny heat
Where first he played, a gangling lad,
In Filmore born, the county seat,
That made the folks in Delta mad.
The Ashurst name he proudly bore
He gave it new dimension,
When they passed him through the public schools
They broke with all convention.
His legs were long, his body trim
His feet were just humongous.
His smile was broad, his hips were slim,
A joy to have amongus.
Yes Earl the boy was quite a sight,
In youth he was a treasure,
He'd get his way through force of will,
Being with him was a pleasure.
But time moved on and mowed him down,
It stooped his back and shoulder.
Years fell on him like globs of gunk,
And made him dull and sober.
He lost the cutting edge of wit,
All toil was tough and tax'in,
As age o'er took him bit by bit
His frame grew stale and waxen.
The food he ate in flush of youth
Was plenty hot and fluffy.
But late in life, sans gum or tooth
His fare is bland and mushy.
While yet a boy of dashing ways
His friends were all delightsome
But now his cronies show their age
They're dull like him and frightsome.
His hair is thin and barely blond
But greyness would be tragic
So weekly now he goes to town
To buy some Grecian Magic.
His hearing once was sharp and keen
His eyes were like a hawk's,
He's a fraction now of what he'd been,
Do you bear how loud he talks?
His measured footsteps slowly fall
As if climbing up a ladder.
As at night he shuffles down the hall
To drain his ancient bladder.
So Earl, old man, rest in the sun
We think your kind of nifty,
Just take it slow, don't try to run,
For after all, you're fifty.
Keith Taylor
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