It’s here, the day they mark my birth.
Family and friends scurry to town
To fill the coffers of card shop owners.
Why should we feel driven to this?
Is it to make me feel good or they?
Three hundred and sixty-four and leap to five,
Less than pleasant times all made good in one.
Why… so tell me why do we have to play out this farce?
For me it merely marks the passing, thoughts come to call,
Memories ebb and flow, but they never hide.
Time, they say, is a great healer… for whom, dare I question?
Should I just play the game, smile and show falsity to all?
The clock ticks, ticks…
I wait, wait, wait…