.

If today were my birthday,
I know what they'd say
He doesn't look older,
not even a day

He moves a bit slower,
a methodic pace
And there are some new
wrinkles formed on his face

His hair is much thinner
up there on his head
and before the sun sets
he's heading to bed
  
But look at his poetry,
he writes about love
The moon and the stars
and the heavens above

He's still young at heart
and it flows from his pen
Especially when he writes
about her again

He looks quite the same
after all of this time
For age doesn't matter,
if he can still rhyme