THE SEASON OF MAN

Birth to twenty is fresh like spring.

Pimples blossom like Bluebells, Oh we do laugh and sing.

Twenty to forty is warm like a summer.

Long days and nights cuddling up with a lover.

Forty to sixty the autumn years are here.

Grandparents we become and we all shed a tear.

Sixty to eighty the winter has arrived.

Life is nearly over but boy what a ride!

? Simon Murphy 2004.