Is there anyone else more alive,
Than our son, who's now 35?
He's active, he's busy, but yet to have sired,
Not bad for a punk who's already retired!

He started with nickles, he traded for dimes.
He loaned out his money for interest at times,
But when he got older, he worked for his money,
Yet his youth caused him pain as his peers called him "sonny"

He gradually learned to trade shorts for some slacks
And he bartered his knowledge for income, less tax.
He traveled with daring, the globe to his glee
Til a lady announced... "it's freedom or me!"

He'd met her through cyber-space, seeking a mate,
But couldn't stop roving 'til almost too late.
We noticed a change, asking "Denny, whose gotcha?"
He answered with joy... "It's a beauty called Nasha!"

Now, at this stage of life, he's working with zest,
As they're plotting their next move toward building a nest.

So money is spending, 'sted of saving and growing
And Denny is anxious, yet all the while knowing
That part of his life must include, without bribe,....
The love of his wife and a small hybrid tribe.