Were you born in '98?

so was I.
let's do the maths.
that makes you fifteen,
even sweet sixteen.

Methuselah, not my name.
not even my middle fame, unclaimed.

Course meaning clear!

Lived a long time coming,
Picked up yesterday my three year old boy,
Third of a third of a third of a third
Of a half of me,
Who I only see once a year,
And we fell in love once again,
all over as is our style,
Annually, annuellement.

Went to the cemetery
Go once a year,
Where they have buried
The lineage.

On the first,
From near two millennium ago,
And upon the each of and the
every one of his descendants,
Psalm 37:37.

They wrote
upon their markers
David's words

לז  שְׁמָר-תָּם, וּרְאֵה יָשָׁר:    כִּי-אַחֲרִית לְאִישׁ שָׁלוֹם. 37          
  Mark the man of integrity,
  and behold the upright;
  for there is a future for
  the man of peace.

An enticing blessing, and curse,
A passed down warning goal.

What's this got to do me,
I got love, poetry, and
French, geometry, and history,
And cute boys on Facebook to study!

Plenty.
You were once three.
You will be someday
Not just fifteen, sixteen, but
Three hundred and fifteen
Just like me.

Your cells will be embedded in
Others,
So take care mr and miss 1998,
On that banner, wrapped
across your chest,
If you win the contest
Of a good life,
Better write down something smart
That is worth living for,
On the palm of you hand.
Tattoo it where you will see it
Everyday, and in your mind
Inescapable.

Then press it upon the skin
Of that three year baby boy,
For that is what this has to do with
You.