He wakes everyday and respire
Grateful yearly as calendars expire
He shouts glory for the end of December
But his time is passing away like a burning ember

He wails at the demise of the older
Forgetting about the stranger waiting to enter
His lifetime flying away like an eagle
But he finds solace in the company of his people

Up his sleeves are so many agenda
His average weight being seventy complete calendars
Each year his grave beckons,
But the calendar man fails to reckon

His whole being senescence,
He envisions his own absence,
He wallows in ill health
Edging closer to his last breath