Thirteen Year Olds Are Why Poetry Exists

Thirteen Year Olds Are Why Poetry Exists

(A title by my friend Liv)

When I was four and little more

I learned to tie my shoes

I ran to Mom with such aplomb

To share with her the news

When I was six, as one predicts

I shed my training wheels

I sped around suburban ground

With no one at my heels

When I was nine, I drank the wine

My pastor proffered me

With sinful taste and sins erased

I saw all I could be

At age thirteen, two-parts caffeine

I always hit my marks

My classes As, my mind a maze

Of powder kegs and sparks

At eighteen years, I changed careers

In fact, I changed them twice

But neither stuck with just my luck

And time to sacrifice

At twenty five, somehow alive

I strived to do my best

But what was left when best bereft

And life an endless test?

Now thirty three, I stop to see

The many things I’ve tried

When just the news I tied my shoes

Could leave me satisfied