63 Poem by Raymond Farrell

63 is an odd number
I have had no reason
To think about until today
Which is my sixty-third birthday
I assume the number 63
Will be more prominent in my life
For the upcoming year
While this flashed through my mind
I was walking back to my room
And it also occurred to me
That I am the only male
In my paternal lineage
I am aware of
Who has lived into his sixties
My great great grandfather
Died in a farm accident
In his thirties
His son was murdered
In his fifties
My grandfather died in the 1918 flu epidemic
At the age of 26
And my father died of cancer at 50
With this in mind
I looked both ways
As I crossed the street
Even though the light was green
Healthy as I am
One can never be too careful.