Ode to August

When I was younger, I have often wondered Why is the eighth month not called October? Was geometry wrong When it named the octagon, Or was this a mistake wrought by the calendar? 'Augustus' seemed such an ugly name too It sounded like someone who has the flu Plus, I've always had this pet From a childish pang of regret That my birthstone's colour wasn't blue Oh, would it be that I was born a month late To be a ‘child of autumn’ seemed so great Instead, it's been quite a bummer To have birthdays in hot summer Though I suppose Mom and Dad just couldn't wait! But, in recent years, I've changed my tune About being born on the eighth moon For there is so much fame Behind this august name My date of birth is now to me a welcome boon For while the man whose name this month honours Might not possess July's fame and splendour He satisfied the Romans' wish To implement an age of peace And so the legacy of his reign is forever revered The strength he lacked he made up in understanding: Roman men saw repugnant the title of "king" So he knew to bide his time And rose the ranks in slow inclines To not repeat his predecessor's death by stabbing! He knew too well that he could not climb alone Delegation was key for his path towards the throne Dealing right to win the race A mastermind masked with modest grace Always walking with one foot set upon the gravestone I do not believe that stars dictate our destiny But there is much to learn from their history By giving August a retrospect I have grown profound respect For this bleak yet beautiful, immutable part of me