Self celebration.

About this time many years ago,
I cried as I got out of the womb,
Daddy held me, fragile as I was,
Mummy laying back smiled.
A fine boy, health and handsome,
The midwives, as well as the nurses,
Claimed I was a special breed.

Happy times

Now, time has passed,
Mummy still smiles,
But daddy is long gone.
I celebrate new times
Every year.
And a new hair grows on my being.

About this time many years ago,
A beer party was organised,
It was time to choose a name.
The whole clan was like,
“What shall we name this fine child?”
Beer was drunk and stories told,
About the family around a fire,
The beauty was described,
In slow turning words.

A fine boy I still am,
Tall and dark,
Well shaven with a beard.
A smile and rare dimples,
A voice hard as thunder,
And a heart of gold.
Old age is my yearly visitor,
Visiting only once a year.


3 Comments Add yours

  1. Mauryn143 says:

    Happy new year Young Man. Grow many more hairs

  2. poetdamar says:

    Fine piece.Bhig kid grew up fine. all the luck.

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