days

where do the days go
the slippery slidey days
trickling away
into a river of time
lost forever
and here I am standing
balanced on a rock
mid-stream
watching
as all my tomorrows
become yesterdays
and I
become
old

birthday thoughts

unspecial

the day arrives
and I feel
numb
it’s just a day
no fanfare
no miraculous changes
no nothing
and I don’t feel special
at all

selfish wishes

on my birthday
I’m like a child
wanting this to be
my day
wanting to be the centre
of attention
wanting others
to make me feel
special
but this is
just selfish wishes
all tangled up
in hormones
and only I
have the power
to let myself
feel special
on the inside

not thinking

if I don’t actually
think
about my birthday
it’s fine
things are good
it’s only when
thinking
and
expecting
that I feel a lack
of that indefinable
birthday
something

balance

as day goes on
I recover my balance
remembering
that to some
I am special
all of the time
not just this one day
and tonight I have time
with my love
just us two
and that is a wonder
to me

one

one
more day
until I change
miraculously
emerge from the chrysalis
of my thirties
and bloom with butterfly wings
with maturity and wisdom
as my watchwords
flapping my wings
flying into that new life
as life begins

or
is it the other way

one
more day
until I change
miraculously
crawl wearily out of bed
all bent and creaking
a white-haired crone
wrinkled and old
dried up and dusty
who nobody sees anymore
over the hill, past it
just freewheeling to the end

or maybe
just maybe
it will be a day
like any other
except it’ll be
a day to feel special
a day to celebrate being alive
a day to be thankful
for all that I have

and maybe
just maybe
I’ll enjoy it

and on the third day …

time is falling
from the sky
and I’m twisting, arching
flinging myself
at odd angles
trying to avoid the downpour
but the years
will soak me through
one is born
one dies
one fights the inevitable
yet in the end
comes acceptance
lying down in the
feathers of mist
drenched in age
and as dawn comes
I will stand up again
with a creak and a groan
proudly wearing the
cloak of antiquity
and embracing
the passing
of youth