Sixty years the wake has rolled
Sixty years my passing bold
Sixty years my life‘s been strong
Sixty years, I’m amazed how long
I’d not claim each and every one
Was filled with joy, filled with fun
Yet always my actions that have pained
Have been into my wake entrained
So that I have burned in memory
Those moments when I was “less than me”
The scars of which ride me day and night
Driving me on to make them right
Thus now I most often find I sit
Looking backward at the wake’s tumultuous split
Net in hand, and hook’d long pole
Watching for turbulent wounded soul
That I have run down, run over, and wrecked
Whether accidentally or intentionally decked
With net and pole I lunge away
To raise them back into the day
Sixty years the wake’s rolled by
Fifty years punctured by heart felt sigh
Forty years my life‘s increasing focus’ been
Paying back for yesterday’s sin
© Copyright 2018, All Rights Reserved, Marty Vandermolen
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