Sixty Not Sixteen

I turned the big sixty by a new day.

I got here somehow in much blissful delay.

Now and again, gleeful in the happy display.

I do appreciate all the years all the way.

As things get older, they quietly squick.

I do not recall the very first knee click.

It did a clique with the house by snick.

Abrupt brainsick affects not a shtick.

The heartsick got here by a hat trick.

Heartburn adapts envy to a chopstick.

Good times still flow by suitable relay.

Much I owe in gratitude at sixty to repay.