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THIRTY TWO


THIRTY TWO, that was the age
When I was two years wed,

But also, when I could have been

For rest of life, ‘brain dead’


You see, an offer had been made,

By my neurologist,

T’attempt to rid me of the plight 

That from birth, did exist.


The episodes, though short they were,

Whene’er malfunction rose,

The brain would freeze, do something strange,

Remember some of those.


While other times, I needed told

" You had another ‘fit’ "

Informed me then, what I had done,

I chuckled some, admit.


Some long, or short, some laughable,

‘tLeast one, quite scary, too,

No one e’er knew when they’d attack,

They didn’t come, on cue.


I never fell down on the floor

A-writhing  in a heap,

The brain was locked in certain mode,

Exhausted, I could sleep.


However, thankful, I now am,

They’re gone, THIRTY TWO years,

I’m surely blessed, when I reflect,

Shed many ‘greatful’ tears

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