A Birthday Poem

I wrote this silly poem for my boyfriend's birthday a couple of years back. Even though he wasn’t actually feeling the symptoms of age (yet), it was a funny way to embrace his 25th year.

You’ll start your morning as you usually do, with a big yawn, a stretch, it’s nothing that new.

But soon you’ll see signs that you’re growing older, creaky bones and stiff muscles, a spasm in your shoulder.

You stop growing at both ends, only the middle. Your blood pressure rates increase a little.

You groan and sigh when you drop something on the floor. And take pride in yelling at solicitors who knock at your door.

Pessimism becomes your new life motto. You teach ‘the youths’ how to play scrabble, poker, and the lotto.

Having an existential crisis becomes more of an everyday thing. Questioning life, politics, and order, you probably align more right-wing.

Old movies become better than the new ones. Your definition of an exciting weekend is Antique Roadshow reruns.

But don’t get me wrong, there are some positive things that come with old age: Like no one turns your head when you blow up from rage.

You can choose comfort over style, a closet full of sweaters. And you appreciate the little things like a hand-written letter.

You’re also considered to be wizard-wise, you’re the one people come to when problems arise.

To my love, you’re a quarter of a century years old, but that you were probably told.

So cue the confetti, the streamers, and the balloons covered with glitter. Today is your birthday, no need to be bitter.