Today is my beloved's birthday, nigh on our daughter's high school graduation, nigh on my unscheduled seizure activity. This is the year we are officially past anything that resembles middle age.
He takes his birthday nap,
The cat ensconced.
This is the year
The concept of middle age
Flies out the window,
Creeps out the door.
This is the year we launch
Our daughter.
This is the year
We realize we don’t live to be
One hundred twenty.
This is the year
We realize
Just so much
Will fit
And no more
Except there is always room
For a birthday nap
And a cat.
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