avatarHarley King

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Abstract

ur youth, when we thought we would live forever, and prostate cancer did not cross our wild minds. But God has had the last laugh on us. We are not invincible. Death will one day visit our doorstep and wrest our souls from our frail bodies. We thought we could save the world and end war and racism, but we cannot even save our aging bodies.</p><p id="2590">Copyright © 2020 by Harley King</p><p id="96e4">If you like this poem, you may also like <b><i>Summer Camp</i></b>.</p><div id="2085" class="link-b

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lock"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/summer-camp-927408316da3"> <div> <div> <h2>Summer Camp</h2> <div><h3>A Story-Poem</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*ABqr6-YqMSGFAEn5O9UWMA.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

Story-Poem

Saving the World from Ourselves

Don’t Trust Anyone Over Thirty

Canva-Photo by stuarthampton — 122636

We stand listening to the rock and roll band, swaying to the beat of the drummer, like hundreds of former hippies who are now bald and fat, remembering moments from our youth, when we thought we would live forever, and prostate cancer did not cross our wild minds. But God has had the last laugh on us. We are not invincible. Death will one day visit our doorstep and wrest our souls from our frail bodies. We thought we could save the world and end war and racism, but we cannot even save our aging bodies.

Copyright © 2020 by Harley King

If you like this poem, you may also like Summer Camp.

Poetry
Hippies
Music
Aging
Poem
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