The Seven Things I'll Hold

 

At first I held a bottle,

And in it, heated milk

Then I held a pencil

To learn amongst my ilk

Right now, I hold a rose

To show my feelings true

Soon I'll hold a rifle

When my conscription's due

 

If I do indeed return

I'll be a wiser man

My worldly knowledge forged

In the Near-Eastern sands

I'll sit before my child

A beer can in my hand

And I will tell them tales

Of that forgotten land

 

And maybe, one fine day

A cane is all I'll touch

I'll sit upon my porch

And yell at kids too much

Some day, I hope not soon

I'll be beneath the land

And on that day, my dear,

Leave this poem in my hands

​

Mark Shulkin