Robin Amy Bass
FIFTY-THREE
I am fifty-three today – some say I’m getting old
My mother says, “You’re still the same – you’re just too old to scold.
You always were a handful… and said just what you think
So Happy Birthday Honey – I’m going to my shrink”
I am fifty three today… My father says, “Hooray
I never thought that you’d survive – I know the way you play
You have my sense of humor; your Mother’s gift of gab
I thought when you turned thirty; you’d end up on a slab
Down in some mortuary, or in some padded cell.
You never listened to me – you gave your mother hell
But somehow you got through it – you toned it down a bit
I’m sure glad you stopped smoking… I told you, you should quit
The drinking with your cronies – those late nights with that crowd
It’s nice to have you sober – And though you still get loud
You seem to have a handle – on how you live your life
You’re nice to dogs and children – Just ask my second wife”
I am fifty-three today – there’s not much that I need
And though I do not smoke and drink – I find I still retrieve
That little girl inside me – the one who wants to play
The one who opens up her toys – the one who wants to say
Just tell me Happy Birthday – Perhaps you’ve brought a gift
I’m still not big on dolls or toys – but shoes give me a lift
And I accept donations – like credit cards and cash
‘Cause after all – At fifty – three – I still sift though the trash
And learned to tell the difference ‘tween poetry and prose
Though I still have a ways to go – I don’t turn up my nose
At those who still go dancing – and try to play the game
At fifty – three, – I’ve learned to see – that we’re all not the same
And though I didn’t plan it… my life, so far is good
And I would never change it – not even if could
Except for one small detail – the time I spent alone
I never would have left you, If only I had known
The places you had been to, when you went off to fight
I try and understand it, but in the dead of night
I look up at the ceiling and think I’m fifty – three
I know that I am lucky you still are here for me
I hear my phone start ringing, and the clock begins to toll
And when at last I pick it up, I hear your voice extol
“I wish you Happy Birthday; I want to be the first”
I hear myself say “Thank You” – Some words, you can’t rehearse
Because it is my birthday and I am fifty – three
I do not say all that I think but deep inside of me
I think about our future… I think about our past
I wonder, though you are the first, if you will be the last
To wish me Happy Birthday
I guess we’ll have to see
But you still are my favorite gift
And that’s just right for me.
©Copyright October 12, 2005 by Robin Amy Bass Ullmann aka Sheila Walters, Rock ‘n’ Roll Reporter to The Stars… aka Raven Snow
Author’s Note: This is a joint production of Looking For Rock Stars and I Love A Blizzard Productions. For Tim
Robin at Three… half a century ago!!!
Robin - at Fifty-Three (2005)