So I revel in being alive,
at the age of seventy four, 
with no tangible boundary,
long and longer one does yearn,
for life’s garden of pure health,
my blossom, bloom, and bliss,
devoid of serious ailment,
that bristling spirit undimmed,
I still savour with such abandon,
verdant sights, scenes, sounds,
profuse vista, azure skyline,
wondrous rapids, bright streams,
tender love and human passion,
sheer late phase zest enduring,
my olden yet golden proud march,
year on year earthly nirvana