I’ve Learned

Ten years old,

I’ve learned how to tie my shoes.

Twenty years old,

I’ve learned how I like my booze.

Thirty years old,

I’ve learned to get up and go to work.

Forty years old,

I’ve learned to appreciate my quirks.

Fifty years old,

I’ve learned my kids are now adults,

Sixty years old,

I’ve learned to ignore the world’s insults.

Seventy years old,

I’ve learned how much a person I can miss.

Eighty years old,

I’ve learned how precious time here is.



A/N: I thought it would be funny to write a poem where someone was compared with a rose but in a bad way. And somehow, this came out. 

He often tells me that his love is like a rose.

And I think “No kidding, boy, you sure hit it on the nose”.

Sure, she’s pretty and she smells so lovely too.

But her personality is her thorns, that vengeful, spiteful shrew.



There is no bad fiction. Just preferences. A literary taste, if you please.

Horrors, or thrillers. An exciting romance. It’s really about the eyes that sees.

Are you into science fiction or fantasy? I have no doubt there will be a book for you.

And if you prefer the old classics, I can assure you: The options are not few.

It’s wonderful really, if you stop and think. At least I believe so, don’t you agree?

For in reality every book is really as different, as wonderful unique, as you and me.