the only crime

as we age bits start to sag

energies begin to lag

but time to sit; time to think

we then start to make the link

betwixt the heart and the soul

we find paths to make us whole

I’ll be there soon, three score and ten

and biblically that is when

my toes curl up and I do die

and to the gods my soul does fly

but being mortal’s not a fear

when the end, we know, is near

“but you might die” I hear them call

as if my fiddling caused Rome’s fall

my life is mine, to live or die

to go out low or go out high

to walk in freedom as I will

or grovel on our social swill

life, at best, a year or so

is still something I can grow

there is no end to living free

even if my death shall be

brought forward for a day or more

why should I try to keep the score

of life according to your ‘time’

to not live life the only crime

I’ve lived defiance every day

and I’m going out same bloody way

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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