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