Mile stones used to stand near my home,
Numbered on a flat-faced side. [1]
They told travelers how far they had come,
Or, if close to the end of their ride –
And the mile stones never lied.
February marks my own miles,
Marks the years of life since birth.
Fantastic memories fill bulging files,
Mind pictures spectrum: from tears to mirth,
Thank God for my years on earth.
– eab, Feb.‘93
[1] Along US 22 between Somerset & Rushville, OH
Separate-Holy 