The Birthday Boys - a Poem

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Many people get all excited about their birthdays, especially so, the young people, the kids among us. Birthdays are lots of fun. As I once observed, that first birthday was likely celebrated quite barely Then came the other birthdays along the way of which not all that many are remembered. Not remembered, true enough, but each can be counted into what can become a big total. Just hit 85 the other day. Made me consider things that are seriously un-serious - like age, for instance. * * * * * * * * * * The Birthday Boys The day arrives, and the cake is made. The world moves on. (Bills to be paid.) Those old shoes still fit on both feet, and birthday music keeps its beat, and, through it all, this is the day when Birthday Boys can smile and play. They're older now, but no more wise, allergic now to exercise. sitting, smiling ( once or twice ) while handing out much free advice: " Age comes to you. It comes to me. Youth ran away. Just let it be." So, what's the game for Birthday Boys, the game they play with no new toys? It's "Getting Older by the Minute." Not much more is found within it, that game we learned from babyhood, When we get old, we've learned it good. * * * * * * * * * * Image source: Pixabay dot com