Biting the Dust
February bites the dust
As every month and season must
And we’ve no choice but to adjust
As life goes flitting by.
On calendars we’ll turn the page
And check the mirrors, where we’ll gauge
How different we look as we age;
Reflections do not lie.
Yet March is waiting ‘round the bend.
On its arrival, we’ll extend
A lukewarm welcome to pretend
Misgivings don’t apply.
Before we know it, one more year
Will gobble days and disappear,
But hopefully, we’ll persevere,
With rhymes yet to supply.
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