As yet another birthday approaches, I’m trying to pretend it isn’t.
Life is like a ladder
Whose length you cannot measure.
When you’re young, each birthday rung
You greet with childish pleasure:
The next one seems so distant
It’s almost out of sight
As you devour each endless hour
In days of cloudless light.
Then, when you’re part-way up,
You forget you’re on a ladder.
It’s more a race whose frantic pace
Is getting ever madder.
But as you keep on climbing,
The gaps between each stage,
Which once were vast, as each one’s passed
Get smaller as you age.
As birthday rungs approach now,
You look the other way
And, at this stage, deny your age.
“You’re as old as you feel,” you say.
So how long is this ladder
Whose top’s not yet in sight?
Who cares, I say! Enjoy each day –
But keep on holding tight.