How Long?

So, you reach 40 and suddenly 41
comes along. OK, you can cope with that.
But it continues. Your life is laid out
like a tape measure. 42. 43. 44.
Up and up and up go the numbers.

You mark them off. Annually. With a
party, a booze-up. Something special
for each Big One. 50! Can you believe it?
You have to believe it. It's true.
You whinge a bit but consider the alternative.

If the numbers are stopped short,
if someone, as it were, cuts the end off
your tape measure, you'll really
have something to complain about.
Not that you'll be able to.


Poem copyright Bernard Young 2010

NOTE: THANKS FOR THE BIRTHDAY GREETINGS BUT IT'S NOT MY BIRTHDAY