Fifty is ten past forty
Age is but a number and counting time tends to bore me.
What is age, but something to count?
Some people fight it, like climbing a mount.
I choose to live, with dignity and grace,
And offer a drink, to all in this place.
(Julie Hebert)
Tomorrow is still a mystery.
Yesterday is already history.
And today it is your BIRTHDAY!
Here they come, with birthday cheer,
Bringing gifts just once a year,
People you don't even like;
You really wish they'd take a hike.
This should be a glad occasion;
But it seems more like a SWAT invasion.
Go away! Just take a break!
Oh well, at least there's birthday cake.
(Joanna Fuchs)
Ouch, you're getting older,
Time for aches and pains to appear,
When nothing's where it should be,
And you shun anything tight or sheer.
But worry not, my dear friend,
Because aging can be so fun,
You will just jiggle a little more,
When you try to walk or run.
(Kevin Nishmas)
I’m sure people make jokes about getting older
You politely laugh with a quiet smoulder
I know you, always being so polite
Jokes about getting older aren’t always right
Don’t worry about it, age is just a number
Don’t you ever let anyone steal your thunder!
Happy Birthday!
Don't fret because
you're one year older.
But if you need
a caring shoulder
Mine's right here,
So have a cry.
Although I can't
imagine why?
You're aging
gracefully, you know?
And getting wiser
as you go.
Another candle on your cake?
Well, that's no cause to pout.
Be glad that you have strength enough
To blow the d*** thing out.
This special birthday wish may be late,
And it may not make you very wise,
But it's still good enough to send,
Because it won't strain your tired eyes.
It may not be the best birthday wish,
And it may not even be on time,
But I think it's better than nothing,
For no other reason than it rhymes.
(Kevin Nishmas)
God grant me the senility
to forget the people I never liked anyway,
the good fortune to run into the ones I do,
and the eyesight to tell the difference.
People tend to compare aging to a bottle of wine.
You find yourself a little stout and round,
And dust may litter your behind.
Like the grapes that create a fine wine,
The fruits of your labor have become your wisom from age.
Timeless and valued beyond compare,
And the lable may need a bit of repair.
But unlucky for you,
None of this is true.
I wish I could say something better,
My friend, you have aged like cheddar.