Birthday Lament
I'm mailed sweet birthday cards
full of warmest regards …
but with vision so blurred
I just can't read a word,
I long to be twenty again …
then wife bakes me that cake
so a wish I may make
though I don't have the breath
to assure candles' death,
now forty sounds all right to me …
she next coos on my lap
and proposes we nap,
but yearning's receded,
in bed I'm impeded,
I'll settle for sixty, okay?
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