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The Best Days

Finally you float,
marvelling that this bliss
is what the N.H.S. gives,
without use of boats.
Apparatus, inserted in your parts,
takes heart, flapping while you glide,
a skater on molten blades,
cascading over icy wastes,
weightless, basted in frosted jewels.
Yes! Even an old fool is adorned,
and feels born again.
Stretch those arms you tetchy old sod,
and give thanks to God as you flail,
in your top hat and tails.
Go on, admit it,
you’re having a whale of a time,
sailing past, lighter than Astaire
with not one care left in the world,
as you swirl towards
the site of that distant ballroom
below the glowing tower
decked in bright light.
Marvel at how easy its become.
After all those years, you are in repose,
while cruising, smooth and in the groove
of where you want to be.
I see you waving
from the arm of that dapper coat
and though I know its hopeless, you don’t.
So let your shiny patent shoes, with their slick soles
remind you that life is but a breeze,
filled with peaches and Carnation Cream,
and its all come to you plain and simple,
while you wonder why you never found out,
on what you thought were the best days of your life

11 Jan 10

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