On the Eve of Getting Older


On the Eve of Getting Older


On the eve of getting older,

I’m feeling unprepared.

It’s not that I am frightened,

Or even that I’m scared.


For what’s another day?

Another time? Another place?

Another measly moment

Living in this place?


I do not have the answer,

But Apprehension sits,

Gnawing at my consciousness,

And challenging my wits.


I do not feel the wisdom.

I do not hear the sound,

Of ghosts beyond tomorrow—

—Just leaves upon the ground,

Whispering in seconds,

Ticking by degrees,

Warning me to make my life,

To decorate the trees,

To laugh until I’m happy,

To sing a birthday song.

On this eve of getting older,

I ignore the gong.

The doomsday knelling of the year

I know I will not hear,

For though tomorrow’s older,

It’s bolder. Fresh and clear.


Happy Birthday to tomorrow.

Happy Birthday to my cake.

Happy Birthday to the me

Tomorrow’s light will make.



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