To Dylan at Twenty-One

Greetings again from sunny Florida, where we celebrated my nephew’s twenty-first birthday yesterday. Below is a poem I wrote for this occasion. Happy birthday, Dylan.



Born on St. Patrick’s Day,
named after Bob Dylan and Dylan Thomas,
you were Grandma Gummy’s little dilly bar.
During your first twelve months of life,
I held your eight-pound body,
sang “Three Little Ducks,”

Then you were two.
Grandpa Grumpy’s truck fascinated you.
Being told “no” did not.
At four, you played soccer,
wanted to be big–Now you are.

Life wasn’t always kind
but now, the possibilities are endless.
With your own band,
you could create a record label,
write and record hundreds of songs,
give thousands of performances across the country,
or you could be a teacher like your dad
or a writer like me.
You could inspire millions.


Abbie Johnson Taylor
We Shall Overcome
How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver

That’s Life: New and Selected Poems
My Ideal Partner: How I Met, Married, and Cared for the Man I Loved Despite Debilitating Odds
Like Me on Facebook.


Author: abbiejohnsontaylor

I'm the author of two novels,, two poetry collections, and a memoir. My work has appeared in various journals and anthologies. I'm visually impaired and live in Sheridan, Wyoming, where for six years, I cared for my totally blind late husband who was paralyzed by two strokes. Please visit my website at

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