Friday afternoons at Four,
The group gathered one by
one,
They met each other
warmly,
For an hour's worth of
fun.
Not a soul was under
eighty,
Though most were more than
that,
They never thought about age
much,
They liked where they were
at.
The Happy Hour at Four
O'clock
Was the senior's special
time,
They'd sit back, relax, and
laugh,
And for that hour, all was
fine.
They'd talk about their aches and
pains,
They'd give warm hugs and slaps on
backs,
They'd share anecdotes and naughty
jokes,
And laughingly recall their
pasts.
Loneliness for a short time -
gone,
Widowhood - almost
forgot,
Spinsterhood - who knew or
cared,
Older folks - just reaching
out.
A toast to one who died last
week,
Their way to say
good-bye,
The funny things he'd said and
done,
Made them laugh until they
cried
Few tears were shed because he
left,
Folks just wondered who was
next,
They all were there on borrowed
time,
No kidding ... no
pretext.
"Another toast!" Each
raised his glass,
"A good man!" They sipped their
wine,
If there are Happy Hours in
Heaven,
Then their friend would be just
fine!
Earnest conversation
followed,
Re: Heavenly Happy
Hours,
Were they held in golden
banquet rooms,
Or up in Ivory
towers?
"Save a seat for us, old
buddy,"
They raised their glasses once
again,
And all the while they
smiled,
Knowing soon they'd see their
friend.
Happy Hour in
Heaven,
A goal each soul had in
mind,
So why be sad; instead be
glad,
Have another sip of
wine.
Virginia (Ginny)
Ellis
Copyright February
2008