As I approach this next birthday,
My age I'm not concealing;





No need to lie . . . no use to try . . .
The treadmarks too revealing.





Quite honestly I tell my friends
I really would much rather
They sit a spell and wish me well,
But as for gifts, not to bother.





I'm keeping score now
not by years.

I just enjoy the hours;





Forget the loot . . .





it's late for fruit . . .




But still too soon for flowers.