As I approach this next birthday,
My age I'm not concealing;
No need to lie . . . no use to try . . .
The treadmarks too revealing.

Quite honestly I tell my friends
I really would much rather
They sit a spell and wish me well,
But as for gifts, not bother.

I'm keeping score now not by years,
I just enjoy the hours;
Forget the loot . . . it's late for fruit . . .
But still too soon for flowers.

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