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Remember- An Original Poem

Editor’s Note: This original poem was written by Keyen Bingaman

You were in the throes of old age 

The day I was born.  

When I turned five, 

You gave me a firetruck the size of my arm. 

The reds gleamed in the light 

But paled in comparison to the twinkle in your eyes. 

Your tender hands, wrinkled with wisdom, 

Brushed my face as you whispered, 

Like the wind through the trees before a storm. 

Always remember this day. You only turn five once. 

The muscles in your face dragged the skin 

Into a sage smile of unconditional kindness. 


I remembered the firetruck instead. 


Wisdom is wasted on the young  

And rediscovered in maturity. 

By the time I relearned

Everything you taught me, 

I could return it to you. 

You did not remember, so I reminded you. 

The sound of a rocking chair 

On uneven floorboards 

Cracked the silence. 

The familiar soapy scent of old people and cats 

Pervaded my nostrils. 

I told you on your birthday, one last time, 

Always remember this day. You only turn 99 once. 


Meet the Author:

Keyen Bingaman, Treasurer of Student Poetry Association