(Poem 116 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

70 is the new 50.
Bike, climb, hike, romance;
the world is your oyster,
the sky the limit.
You can smell the roses
and shoot for the moon,
throw your hat in the ring
and take the bull by the horns.
So, bite the bullet,
but don’t break a leg
because the ball’s in your court,
and it’s time to sing your own praises.
You make your own destiny,
for nothing is set in stone.
Since all bets are off,
pull out all the stops,
make a castle in the sky,
and do everything on your bucket list.

@Home Studio – 116^th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Granny Fun photos to accompany my poem: