Fifty Nine Winters by m.e.

The hawk dove and its wingspan reached its peak, the centrifugal winds spread out across the wide expanse below frigidly ascertaining its hold upon our corporeal beings.

Fifty-nine winters of anything just seems too MUCH of anything to put up with, endure, withstand UNLESS you LOVE WHAT you do. Living, with all its attendants and occupants, has always been a dear friend; controversy, sass, back talk CONFLICT

MY BEST FRIENDS, DEAREST TO M.E. AS CARPE DIEM FIFTY-NINE TIMES JUST SEEMS SUBLIME.

SUGGESTIONS FOR FUTURE GENERATIONS: Speak your mind, formulate don’t hate as it is a YUUGE waste of TIME. Love family, friends but KEEP YOUR Dignity don’t vacillate or LEARN to be LATE as everyone I know REALLY HATE late people: always with lame excuses and sick dogs, kids and TRAINS; Notice in their Late Tales The Trains are to BLAME.

Well for lack of a better tale don’t blow IT ALL TO hell, enjoy LIVING as WELL as raising dust as you scrap with the general details of FIFTY-NINE WINTERS, HOW HAVE I REACHED THIS PEAK? WITH ITS BEAK, THE HAWK, pointed north, east, south and west THEN with its keen EYES said, “Son, the REST IS UP TO YOU to consider LIVE LAUGH ENJOY the RIDE remember GOD IS on your SIDE.”

59! WELL let’s RIDE…Thanks Everyone for your good wishes, GOD Provides.

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