Saturday, January 24, 2015


By Beatrice M. Hanson

Through all the years that we've been wed,
I've waved a banner over my head,
I’m younger!
It pleased me when a friend would sigh,
How come you married an older guy?
You’re so much younger.
The years sped by - the children gone.
My husband’s nearing sixty-one.
“Hurry up hurry up” he calls to me,
"I’m almost ready for Social Security"
But I can only shake my head,
The years are long before I get my check,
Because (darn it) I’m younger.
At sixty- five he’s at his ease,
Waits for his check, does as he pleases.
He smokes his pipe- and how he rages,
About the trips he’s taken with the Golden Agers.
But I can only bide my time,

And hope he’s here when I get mine,
Because (woe is me) I’m younger.