Friday afternoons at Four,
The group gathered one by one,
They met each other warmly,
For an hour's worth of fun.
Not a soul was under eighty,
Though most were more than that,
They never thought about age much,
They liked where they were at.

The Happy Hour at Four O'clock
Was the senior's special time,
They'd sit back, relax, and laugh,
And for that hour, all was fine.
They'd talk about their aches and pains,
They'd give warm hugs and slaps on backs,
They'd share anecdotes and naughty jokes,
And laughingly recall their pasts.

Loneliness for a short time - gone,
Widowhood - almost forgot,
Spinsterhood - who knew or cared,
Older folks - just reaching out.
A toast to one who died last week,
Their way to say good-bye,
The funny things he'd said and done,
Made them laugh until they cried

Few tears were shed because he left,
Folks just wondered who was next,
They all were there on borrowed time,
No kidding ... no pretext.
"Another toast!"  Each raised his glass,
"A good man!"  They sipped their wine, 
If there are Happy Hours in Heaven,
Then their friend would be just fine!

Earnest conversation followed,
Re: Heavenly Happy Hours,
Were they held in golden banquet rooms,
Or up in Ivory towers?
"Save a seat for us, old buddy,"
They raised their glasses once again,
And all the while they smiled,
Knowing soon they'd see their friend.

Happy Hour in Heaven,
A goal each soul had in mind,
So why be sad; instead be glad,
Have another sip of wine.
Virginia (Ginny) Ellis
Copyright February 2008

Dedicated to my dear friend Andy,
who is now enjoying a well deserved
Happy Hour in Heaven

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