Twenty-Six
Today I am older.
Just a little bit more,
And on this date
In 1904,
Another man was born.
We saw eye-to-eye;
Both kids at heart.
He was my kind of guy.
Age doesn’t matter.
At least, not to me.
It’s growing up that sucks.
Dr. Seuss would agree.
So I’m staying young,
Forever. For real.
Age is irrelevant.
That’s my new deal.
But I do love holidays
And birthdays are great
So yeah, I’m twenty-six.
And I’ll celebrate.
I’ll raise a glass
(or a cupcake and a beer)
to the enjoyable passage
of another great year,
And I humbly ask you
To write me a note
Or maybe a wish,
Or a favorite quote;
Anything you’d like
To share with me here.
Anything that you have
That can help me this year.
Thanks in advance,
Friends and family,
for all the good wishes.
Happy Birthday to me!
O Me! O Life!
by Walt Whitman
O Me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities fill’d with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean—of the struggle ever renew’d;
Of the poor results of all—of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest—with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?
Answer.
That you are here—that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.
Happy Birthday, sucka. Love you.