Celebrating Time

Birthdays come but once a year,
53 have come my way I fear!
Too many to count for celebration,
it’s just another day I say.
Save the trees, spare the cards,
call me humbug but waste not for me.
Give me a cheer, wish me well,
I’ll thank you, and forget that
half a century and more, a number
appended to my name, like a score.
Only man marks the cycle of weeks,
months and years, as if there is
past, present and future.
There is only now, ask an animal,
if he could talk; what was yesterday?
Another today, been and gone.
What is tomorrow? Dumb stare,
it doesn’t exist yet, why ask?
It will be another today.
Only the cycle of sun and moon, and
rotation of seasons mark our time.
Every day should be a birthday,
every day should be a Christmas,
not saving it,
but love and goodwill each moment.


6 thoughts on “Celebrating Time

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