April 14 - My Last Great Year

My Last Great Year

I was twelve years-old  my last great year,
And though I’ve since had my share of bliss,
Twelve was the year when I told myself
That it gets no better than this.

It’s what I told myself back then
In the midst of a wistful rumination.
Childhood done, adulthood looming,
A fearful youthful contemplation.

What, I wondered, would tomorrow hold,
As my hormones came a’ tappin’?
Mom had no basement for me to live in
(As if that would ever happen!)

If experience has taught me anything,
Through bullies, poundings and stolen lunches,
It’s to bob and weave and just move along,
And always try to roll with the punches.

 Looking back down the march of the years,
Twelve year-old me was kind of wise.
For it’s not your quick feet or your deadly aim.
It’s not even your strength or your size.

It’s getting back up when they knock you down.
It’s getting right back up in their faces.
It’s knowing you can be better than that.
It’s knowing how powerful grace is.

© 2020 by Tom King