Hi friends. I hope all is well today. This was written in 1985.
Half a century has come and gone as the man they call Joe starts off to go. A boy on his bike shouts look out you old goat, as Joe shakes his fist, he mumbles "no manners these kids of today." He gets to the park and gladly sits down running his hand through his dark thinning hair, touching his bald patch which is clear. His mow that was dark is now covered with grey. His teeth he can pull in and out for a laugh.
His eyes are under a great lot of strain. His glasses are worn on the top of his head. Then he asks you "where are my specs?" There on your head you chop chop I reply. Well I don't have to tell you he is quite deaf. "Where did you say dear?" There in the chops. No he's not really as bad as all that. But one day if I wake to find that's exactly his frame of mind, I will still thank Father God for giving to me this man they call Joe. He is my husband.
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