The seconds cumulate to hours; And hours then to days and months finally to the dearth of time. As the year moribund like a morning dew. Today it is just another day But they say it is my birthday For me it doesn’t count As far as the bird sings in the radiance of the dawn. But one or two grey hairs In the midst of those dolled up greens Make me rather shrink Promulgating those torturous thoughts That many such years make my age.