A man was one-hundred-and-three,
Drink a shot of wine each day,
He once told me.
Live at peace with others,
You will be at peace with yourself.
Be grateful for the little things,
Momentary trinkets of our lives.
These memories, the small ones,
Create our stories, the histories of who we are.
The old man said he was ancient in body.
Exuberantly youthful in soul.
The mind, with the occasional wander,
Comes back, as if finishing a stroll.
Drink the wine, I thought he would say,
Cheers to your life,
Treat it not like a toy.